Just Like You
by FishInAFadora
Summary: AU. How is it that the Boggans always come back for the forest, and the Leafmen are always able to keep them at bay? Each side has an ace up their sleeve. For Ronin, that ace is M.K., a Leafgirl he's apprenticed to be the next general. For Mandrake, it's the teenage Boggan he trained to be his assassin since the age of seven. ON HIATUS (working on the rose king series).
1. Today's the Day

**Inspired by the song "Just Like You" by Three Days Grace. **

**Disclaimer: The only Epic thing I own is my talent for stories (wow, Im the most modest person I know) ;)**

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><p><em>First day of Leafman training,<em> she thought. _Why did I sign up again? _

M.K. winced as her thighs, calves, abs, and-well every muscle- burned with pain. She felt utterly drained of strength, energy, and even emotion, as she trudged towards the barracks.

"You rookies get a two minute shower!" the drill sergeant barked at them. "Then it's inspection and off to bed. You'll need it."

M.K. couldn't agree more, and the other recruits groaned at the thought of a hot shower and a pillow. Then she scoffed at herself. _The water will most likely be cold. And the bed will be like sleeping on a rock. Still, this is better than home._

She was almost to the barracks when she heard the scuff of a boot on the rocky ground. Instead of turning around to see what it was, M.K. quickened her pace. She thought it was the sergeant ready to yell at her for not doing as many push-ups as the rest of them. _I'm almost to the showers!_

"Hold it there soldier," a commanding, but neutral, voice sounded behind her. Wearily, M.K. stopped and turned around...to be face to face with General Ronin, renowned and legendary leader of the Leafmen!

She was awestruck for a second before remembering protocol and saluted, making herself stand straight as a rod, despite her protesting muscles. "Sir!"

"At ease," he said, and M.K. relaxed though watched him attentively. His face gave nothing away, his blue eyes studying her and boring into her green ones.

"Did I do something wrong sir?" she queried, not sure if she was allowed to speak first but did it anyway.

"No, you didn't." At that, M.K. was confused. If it wasn't a mistake, then what had drawn Ronin's attention to her?

"I was impressed by your skills today," he said. Her eyebrows shot to her hairline, shocked that this man, of all people, would be impressed. By what exactly, she didn't know. He continued, "In the unarmed combat lesson, you seem to anticipate your opponent's every move before he made it. And in the strategy class, you placed your troops exactly where I would put them."

M.K. thought back to the day's early class. They were divided into groups of four and given a map of the forest, and little wooden Leafmen on hummingbirds. The teacher instructed them to find the best place on the map to lay an ambush on a horde of Boggans coming from the north.

The red head shrugged. "I just put figurines on a map, and the teacher didn't even look happy about where I put them."

Ronin shook his head. "You positioned your's differently. Many of the recruits kept their troops together, but you scattered them. You did something different."

M.K. bit her lip as she thought of a way to explain her actions to the general. If she came up with a sound reason, he'd lessen her punishment. "They are always telling us to expect the unexpected when it comes to Boggans or any other enemy. I just thought it was a good idea at the time. For us to do the unexpected."

For the longest time, Ronin stared at M.K. and she found herself staring right back. She didn't know why, but she felt like she was being tested.

Then the man nodded, seeming satisfied. "You and I will be talking more Mary Katherine. You better hit the showers now." He turned to walk away.

"It's M.K." she said automatically, then cringed when the words left her mouth. Ronin turned back, one eyebrow raised. She continued awkwardly, "It's shorter and more convenient that way."

The general dipped his head. "Very well, M.K. Good luck with the rest of your training." Back straight, he strode away toward the center of Moonhaven.

M.K. stared at his retreating back for a while. She was able to read between the lines. _"I will be watching you from now on" _

Finally, it sunk in. God, she had gained the attention of General Ronin! He was second only to the Queen Tara herself! And she had impressed him! Her mind raced with renewed excitement as she jogged to the barracks. Her spirits were so high, she didn't care if she had missed her shower.

_Why did I sign up for this? Oh yeah. For that._

M.K. blinked as she pulled herself out of the memory. That had been two years ago, when she was sixteen and a new recruit. Back then, she was unfit, inexperienced, and not very confident. Looking at where she was now, M.K. was a completely different girl. Now, she walked like she owned the place. She could fight a man blindfolded and shoot an arrow through the eye of a mouse. The Leafmen's training regime had done wonders to her body. She was stronger, faster, and more determined. _Yes, that girl three years ago has been shaped into something more amazing._

At the moment, her career of combat was about to take a new turn. For today was the day she would be tested. If she passed, and she had the highest confidence that she would, M.K. will officially become General Ronin's protégé. The next in line to take up the mantle of leader of the Leafmen!

All she had to do was answer the questions the high ranking council and Queen Tara would ask her. If her answers satisfied them, they promote her to the next test; a simulated field exercise where she would command her own force. M.K. got dizzy just thinking about it! She knew now how it felt to be excited and nervous at the same time.

Today's the day.

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><p>"Get up weakling."<p>

Panting and with his limbs shaking from exertion, the seven year old Boggan pushed himself up from the floor and glared at his sparing partner. He could hardly hold his short sword's tip above the ground.

"I'm not weak!" the small Boggan spat, showing off his pointed teeth.

The larger Boggan snorted. "Your defense is slow, your offense is sloppy, and you leave your left side so wide open, a baby Jinn could get through it! Now raise that sword and come at me again."

The little Boggan glared and stood still. He was too tired for another round; couldn't his idiot teacher, Jok, see that? He was only seven and it was pass midnight. He just wanted to go to bed.

Jok grinned wolfishly when his young student refused to comply. He didn't care how tired the boy was. If he decided to be defiant, that just gave Jok an excuse to beat on him. Not that he needed an excuse.

"Alright Drake," the Boggan sneered. "You've been quite rebellious and annoying lately. I don't know what you're going through, and I don't care, but that just makes you my punching bag. So stand still." Jok sheathed his bone weapons and cracked his fists. "This is going to hurt you more than it hurts me."

Drake stood his ground as the Boggan loomed over him. He knew this would happen, but he was beyond caring. Maybe he'd get lucky and be knocked unconscious. Or better yet, he'll get internal bleeding and die. It was a painful way to go out, but his whole life was already full of pain, so much so that he wouldn't be able to make out a difference. At least in the end, his agony will finally fade away.

Jok's fist descended towards his head and Drake closed his eyes and waited for the impact.

It never came. Another Boggan suddenly sprang out of nowhere and caught Jok's fist with his hand. It was the equivalent of Jok punching a wall. The other Boggan stepped between him and Drake, making Jok back up to keep his balance.

"What-" Jok was cut off by a viscous uppercut. The Boggan swiftly placed his foot behind Jok's heel, and Drake's teacher went down. The little Boggan watched with wide eyes as his former assailant scrambled away, scared out of his wits by this new attacker.

"Beat it Jok," the Boggan said. "I have no use for you now."

The Boggan's voice sounded very distinguished to Drake's ears. He didn't possess the throaty, guttural accent that most of the Boggans had. He was tall, well-muscled, and had a bat cloak flowing from his shoulders.

"King Mandrake," Drake gasped and immediately got down on one knee and looked at the ground. The huge Boggan shuffled toward him, and Drake stared at his feet. He felt gracious for the King of Boggans saving him, but he was also scared that such a notorious figure even took notice of him.

"Stand young one," Mandrake ordered. The little Boggan got up on shaky legs, keeping his gaze down. "Look at me," the King said. Drake hesitantly met the glowing gold eyes that studied him with startling intensity.

"What's your name?"

"Drake," he croaked.

Mandrake smirked. "That's almost like my name."

Drake nodded and averted his gaze back to the floor. Mandrake smiled at him. "You've got a strong grip on your sword for a...how old are you?"

Drake mumbled his answer and Mandrake cocked his head. "Speak up child. And look at me when you are talking."

Instantly obeying him, Drake met his eyes. "I'm seven."

"And you can already hold a sword and swing it," the King praised. "What else can you do?"

The little Boggan hesitated before saying, "I can throw a knife."

"Can you now? What about a bow, can you draw back the bowstring?"

Drake shook his head, knowing full well that he wasn't strong enough for that yet. Mandrake didn't seem disappointed. "That's fine. We'll work on that when you're older."

"We?" His face scrunched up in confusion.

"Yes. You're coming with me to Wrathwood." Mandrake turned back to Jok, who was still cowering on the ground. "You're dismissed. I'll take up Drake's training from here." Without another glance, the King strode away, his bat cape billowing behind him. Drake took the opportunity to stick his tongue out at his hated enemy before quickly following the Lord of Bats.

For a while, they navigated the marshy ground and rotting vegetation in silence, Drake having to jog to keep up with the older Boggan's long strides. Then Mandrake broke the quiet. "You haven't even said thank you, boy."

"I'm sorry my lord," Drake quickly replied. "Thank you for saving me."

"And don't you forget it," he chided. "I have big plans for you."

Drake shook his head. _Stupid,_ he thought. _I have to stop getting so distracted by my memories._ That particular one was twelve years ago. He wasn't that weak little Boggan anymore. Mandrake had seen to that.

Under the King's tutelage, Drake became a killing machine. Though Mandrake did not go easier on him, he didn't beat him every time he messed up, like Jok did. From Mandrake, the Boggan learned to never rebel against his superiors. It made sense to Drake, now that he saw no reason to refuse anything of Mandrake. Every time he felt that unnatural defiance rise up in him again, he remembered how Mandrake had saved him from Jok's brutality.

He was taller now, lean with toned muscle that portrayed speed and strength. The young Boggan knew he was different than the rest of his kind. His skin was darker than the other Boggans, and he had an unruly mess of thick black hair. His ears were pointer, his face flatter, and he didn't have as many teeth. But he was a Boggan. He had the skin, the yellow eyes, and the bloodthirsty drive. He could fight with any weapon you put in his hands, and he'd use like it he was born to.

Mandrake had trained him as his personal assassin. Drake could disappear into the shadows or the gray colors at his leisure. His movements were as quiet as a ghost. The young Boggan committed his first kill when he turned ten.

A stupid Boggan had betrayed his King and was spilling secrets to the Leafmen. Drake had tracked him to the border, where the spineless traitor was meeting with a patrol of a dozen green warriors. From the way he was acting, the Boggan was about to tell the Leafmen an important secret. He couldn't help but smirk when he remembered how the Leafmen leaned in, eager ears pricked to listen. The Boggan never got the chance. Drake's arrow shot him threw the head and the arrowhead skewered the traitor's tongue. He'll never talk again.

Drake mentally face-palmed. _Ugh, I did it again! _

Now wasn't the time to be reminiscent! The day had finally arrived. It was his coming of age and the thirteenth day of the fifth month, also known as Boggan Fight Day. _They really couldn't have come up with a more dazzling name? _

It was the time where young Boggans would show off their fighting, tracking, and flying skills. Their demonstration would get them into the army, and if they were really good, a promotion would be given. Drake had already proven himself to be an extraordinary assassin, but only in Mandrake's eyes. This tradition would help him gain acceptance from the other Boggans.

Today is the day.

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><p><strong>Please review! For all who are waiting for Rise of the Rose King's sequel, know that I am working on that, but this is just an in between sort of fic<strong>

**hoped you liked it! Be nice and review**


	2. Demonstrations

M.K. stood in the at-attention-pose, her back straight and hands folded behind her. She scanned the faces of the elderly or middle aged men and women that sat before her. The Leafgirl was standing in front a crescent shaped table, beautifully carved from hickory wood. The Council of Moonhaven was lounging in high back wooden chairs with cushioned sheets. Documents, quill pens, and ink wells were placed in front of them on the table.

M.K.'s armor gleamed with fresh polish, as did her leather belt. Strapped to the left side of the belt was the Leafmen's standard issue katana, a beautifully-crafted weapon of combat. On her right side hung a coiled up whip. It was her favored weapon and she had mastered it. To any one else, it was a floppy, awkward length of leather, but in her hands, it was a lethal extension of her arm. She could grab anything that stood four meters away and not move her feet, and it left stinging wounds when it struck flesh.

The young Leafgirl looked herself over again, making sure there wasn't a scuff mark or wrinkle on her uniform. It felt like she had been standing there for five minutes, and her back and legs were beginning to ache. The interview would not commence until Queen Tara arrived.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, the door opened and the Queen glided into the room. Every time M.K. laid eyes on Tara, she marveled on how the woman could move so gracefully. Her elegant white petal dress trailed behind her, and the air filled with the scent of summer. General Ronin followed in her steps dutifully, holding his helmet against his side. The Council stood from their chairs and bowed, M.K. following suit.

Queen Tara's liquid brown eyes met hers and she smiled encouragingly. "Let us begin this induction meeting," she said to the Council.

The men and women returned to their chairs, and Tara sat gracefully in the center of them. Ronin placed himself to the side, locking gazes with M.K. He gave her the smallest quirk of smile.

"Please state your name and rank for the records," an elderly man requested.

"Lieutenant Mary Katherine Radcliffe."

"And you wish to be General Ronin's protégé?"

"Yes sir."

These questions weren't necessary, for the Council already knew the answers to them, but it was protocol. They were easy to reply to: 'Your birth date is May twenty-fourth, correct?'. 'Yes sir, it is.'. 'And you have completed the Leafmen training regimen?'. 'That is correct, ma'am.' And so on.

With that part complete, the Queen called Ronin forward. "Please give an account to the Council and myself that you either recommend or object to this girl becoming your protégé."

Ronin cleared his throat than began. "Mary Katherine is one of the best of our ranks. When she began training two years ago, she already possessed tactical understanding, therefore surpassed her other peers in strategics class. Her determination is what allowed her to get this far, and she will go further, that I'm certain of. Most importantly, she's flexible. M.K. is willing to take the initiative, and solve problems in new, creative ways. Out in combat, most plans do not go as planned, and when we are lacking in improvisers, then we're in a tight spot. M.K. is willing to take risks that most don't dare to."

M.K. fought to keep the smile of her face, and her chest swelled up with pride. Still though, she had to retain the air of dignity and professionalism.

"In short, I would be honored to be her mentor," Ronin finished. "She has potential and I wish to be the one to kindle it."

The Council took this in consideration, most scribbling notes on their papers. Tara smiled warmly at Ronin and M.K. The Leafgirl allowed the smile to break the surface. What can she say? When the Queen smiled in your direction, you tend to smile back.

"Thank you General Ronin," Tara said. "And thank you Mary Katherine...or do you prefer M.K.?"

"Either is fine your Highness. M.K. is just more convenient to say."

Tara dipped her head. "Very well M.K. For your field simulation, you must meet Officer Laure outside the barracks two o'clock today. Don't be late. You're dismissed."

"Wait, that's it?" the red-head blurted out.

"Yes, that is all. You may go."

M.K. pushed aside her bewilderment and bowed. "Good day your Highness, and you to Councilmen." She straightened and turned for the door. Ronin walked out into the stone hall with her.

"I suggest you get some rest," Ronin said once the door closed behind them. "The questions may have been easy, but the simulation exercise is anything but!"

"I didn't think the interview would be easy like that," M.K. admitted. "I thought they'd put me under a light and rack my brain until I was in a catatonic state."

The general chuckled. "The Council lets that rumor fly to work you up. They were testing how level-headed you were. They needed to be sure that you can be calm in stressful situations. You did very well, actually."

"Thanks," she replied. The pair came to a crossed hallway and stopped. "Well, I should go. I meeting Cece outside, and then I'll rest up."

"Just remember, outside the barracks, two sharp, and Officer Laure."

"I know, I know," she brushed off, half-heartedly annoyed. She waved as she walked away from him, then turned the corner. When she was sure no one was looking, she fist bumped the air and skipped merrily. That protégé position was hers!

M.K. walked outside, squinting as the sunlight dazzled her vision. Her best friend Cece was waiting for her.

She met the brown-eyed beauty in Leafmen training. They had been paired as a team whenever there was a field exercise and had struck an instant friendship. Cece was tall, slim, and had olive skin. The rules required her to have her hair cut short or in a ponytail at all times. Cece refused to cut her curly, black mass of hair and when no one was around, she let it hang loose.

"Well, how did it go?" she asked as M.K. approached her.

"I'm doing the simulation!" M.K. claimed with glee. Her elation was contagious and Cece joined in.

"Girl, that's great!" They both jumped for joy, enjoying the BFF moment.

"When is it?"

"At two today. I've got four hours to kill. Ronin suggested I get some rest."

"Good idea. Then afterwards, we'll celebrate! There's this party at Nim's tonight, and a little birdie told me that Kaiden is going."

The red-head sighed in exasperation. "Oh come on, Cece. I told you I'm not into him anymore."

"You have a crush!"

"That was when I was a pre-teen, and he had no interest in me then. I don't think anything's changed."

"But you'll have the title of being General Ronin's assistant, and that's almost being second-in-command! That will draw his attention."

M.K. argued, "First of all, I still have to ace the field test. I might not pass. And second of all, if it takes a military title to get a guy's attention, then maybe he's not worth it."

Cece scoffed. "Please, it's a guarantee that you'll pass! They may as well just hand it to you now, I mean, you're amazing and perfect for the job! But I guess I'll just have to prove you wrong at the party tonight," she finished with a smirk.

The Leafgirl smirked back at the challenge. "Yeah, we'll see. Let's get some brunch, shall we?"

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><p>The noise was deafening enough for Drake to make his ears lay flat, yet that did not save them from the abuse. Surrounding him on all sides were crowds of jeering, screeching, rambunctious Boggans. They were brandishing their weapons and hollering war cries at him. They were loud enough to rattle his nerves, and he clenched his fists to keep his hands from reaching his bone knives.<p>

They were not attacking him, but he almost wished that they would. Then at least he would have an excuse to vent his irritation.

He was in the heart of Wrathwood. King Mandrake and Prince Dagda sat in elevated thrones, above the throng. Drake envied to join them...but not yet. First, he has to go through this.

"My fellow Boggans!" the speaker Boggan announced in an impressively loud voice. "Before you stands a warrior of the shadows!"

The crowd ate it up and roared louder. _Idiots,_ Drake thought. _If they want to hear the rest of the story, they'll have to shut up!_ That's all it was: a story.

"This here is Drake! Son of nobody and the favorite assassin of King Mandrake himself! His black skin allows him to call the darkness to his will. The shadows can wrap him up faster than you can blink, and you won't see him again until it's to late! His very soul is cold and hard, like ice, and he'll kill you without a thought! So don't cross him, unless you want to see the wrong end of his knives!"

If the Boggans could get any louder, than they did, until Drake was sure he could feel the palace shaking. Without moving his head, the young Boggan flicked his gaze up at Mandrake. The Lord of Bats was impassive, his face blank and not giving his thoughts away. His son seem to have a permanent sneer, like he didn't believe anything the speaker said about him.

Granted, the speaker was known to exaggerate beyond the moon, but Drake's hands itched to grab his knives. He'll show everybody what he can do, and they'll regret every shunning and judging him!

"On that note, my fellow Boggans, let's bring out the targets! Let this young fighter prove himself ten times over!" the speaker said.

The mass of monsters roared their approval. Other Boggans came into the ring, carrying wooden circles with lines painted on them. They set the three targets on the far side of the ring, and Drake walked to the other side. The targets were one hundred paces away, and the Boggans' clamor was enough to throw of any warrior's concentration. _Not me,_ he thought smugly. _This is too easy._

The horde quited only a little as they waited in anticipation. Drake grabbed a knife and pulled it out slowly, adding his drama to the performance. He spread his legs to shoulder-width, pulled his arm back, and eyed the bullseye.

The crowd watched as the young Boggan threw his knife with ease. Their eyes tried to follow it but it went to fast, and they heard the thunk before they saw it in the bullseye. The Boggans screeched in excitement. Drake couldn't help but grin.

Later, he would contemplate that he let the demonstration get to his head. But he knew it was more of pride and cockiness, and he'd berate himself for it. But in that moment, he wanted to stun these Boggans with his amazing skills. _What the hell,_ he thought. _The speaker did say I had to prove myself ten times over._

Before the speaker could begin his speech again, Drake was flicking another knife at the second target. The Boggans didn't even see it this time, but they screamed their approval when it hit the center.

Drake decided to add some style to it. He leaped high into the air and hurled another knife. Another dead shot! He flipped, rolled, jumped to the side, and even did a back flip, all the while throwing his projectiles and striking the center every time! Drake let out a little cackle. This was the most fun he had in years! He risked a glance back and saw that Mandrake was actually smirking! Dagda looked shocked. The Boggan speaker was at a loss for words, for once!

_Sitting targets are too boring,_ Drake thought. _I need a real challenge if I want them to accept me. _He spotted some Boggans leaving the excited mob and heading for the exit. They looked angry. _Jealous much? _Grinning like a wolf, Drake unsheathed three knives, one for each.

The first Boggan was wearing a ragged, pitiful cape. The assassin hurled his knife for it. The weapon pinned the cape to the wooden wall, making the Boggan shriek in fear. The second Bog turned to glare at Drake, only to have his skull helmet ripped off his head. The astonished Bog looked to see his prized headgear hanging on the wall by a knife, which must have missed his head by a few centimeters. The third Boggan roared in fury and charged the upstart.

Drake ducked the first, wild punch. He evaded the second. The Boggan threw his fists, only to hit air every time. Drake avoided the attacks with ease. The Boggan suddenly screamed in pain. He looked at his palm to see a long, bloody scratch on it. Drake was holding a knife in his hand, the tip dripping crimson liquid on the floor. No one had even seen him draw it.

The Boggan lunged for Drake again, but Mandrake's voice stopped him. "Enough!"

The mass, the Boggan, and Drake froze at the booming voice. The King stalked down the steps of his throne, staff in hand and his bat cloak wrapping him in fearful shadows.

Every creature in the room lowered to their knees and bowed their heads. Drake dropped his knife. His blood turned to ice when Mandrake's feet stopped in front of him.

"This demonstration has gone far enough," he growled. "You!" he snapped, addressing the Boggan with the bleeding palm. "You and your friends were leaving? Well then, get out of my sight! You're getting blood on my floor."

The Boggan scurried away after his friends, grateful to be out of there. The hair on the back of Drake's neck stood on end when he felt the Boggan King's scathing gaze on him. Instead of impressing his mentor, he had anger him. Perfect.

"Think yourself so skillful, Drake?" The assassin looked up at him, bravely meeting the glaring, golden eyes. "Hell, give it a few more years of discipline, and you might actually pose a threat! If you really want to show off, then kill an adult moccasin and bring me its skin. Without your weapons."

Drake stood and gloomily emptied his sheaths of knives, throwing every last one down until he felt naked. He even parted with his short swords strapped to his back, hidden by his shirt. Mandrake knew it was there. The King looked pointedly at his sleeves and boots. Drake consented and pulled his daggers out from their hidden sheaths. All his weapons laid at Mandrake's feet, a pile of sharpened bone and hardened sticks.

"You better hurry, assassin," Mandrake said, unemotional. "You have until sun-up tomorrow. Bring me back a trophy or your shattered honor."

Drake was dismissed and turned to leave. He ignored the stares of the Boggan horde and kept his head high and eyes forward. When he was outside, he let out a sigh of disappointment.

_Fool. This is what happens when you try to be yourself._

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><p><strong>REVIEW!<strong>


	3. When Hunters Clash

**Yo fellow readers, just some quick input. ****I am NOT shipping MK with Drake****, that's not how roll.**

**Also, do not fear, Nod is in this story. He'll just be coming in a little later.**

**Virtual cookies for anyone who can guess where Nod is! :D**

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><p>At the moment, Drake's tracking know-how was being tested to their limits. He had been trudging along the stream bank for over an hour now. His feet were sore and his waist felt naked without his knives. His deadline was sunup tomorrow; if he didn't come back to Wrathwood with a trophy before then, he could kiss the hope of joining the army goodbye.<p>

The young Boggan decided to sit down on a rock embedded in the sand. He felt the heavy weight of expectation on his shoulder, and he was tempted to lament to any godly being listening and complain to them about his situation. But that wouldn't get him anywhere. If only he had been allowed to ride his grackle, Merle. Then he'd be able to transverse the land with ease. But he doubted that Mandrake would allow him his bird after the show he had made.

_I need weapons. If only I had my knives and swords!_ That's when the idea struck him. Boggan weapons were often just sticks or bones, treated with their infamous Rot poison. They didn't have any of that fancy rock that the Leafmen used for their swords, nor did they have the skill to make those. If he put in the effort, nature would provide him the materials he needed to make something.

Getting up from his rock, Drake looked around him. Brambles were clustered together at the edge of the stream, with dead vines trailing along them. Broken twigs littered the marshy ground. Drake peered closer at the brambles. The thorns were long enough for a makeshift knife, but he needed more than that if he was taking down a venomous water snake.

Drake grabbed a twig that was longer than his arm. It was a start. He found a pebble and used it like a hammer, repeatedly hitting it on a thorn until it was torn from the stem. The Boggan repeated the action until he had two dozen broken thorns. In the process, he nicked his bare arms on the thorns and scratched himself but he ignored the pain and went to work. Using a sharp thorn, he sawed off a length of the vines.

It took him perhaps twenty minutes, but he was able to tie half of the thorns to the twig with the vines. He held up and looked it over. The thorns were sticking outward to create a spiny weapon, like a cross between a sword and a cudgel. He was pretty proud of his handiwork. Drake slipped the other twelve thorns into his belt strap. They were too unbalanced to throw, but he might still need them.

So he had his means of fighting; now all Drake needed was a water moccasin. He reviewed everything he knew about the reptile. They spent most of their time in the water, but they had to bask in the sun to regulate their body temperature. The sun was high in the sky now, and due to the wasteland's lack of live trees, their wasn't much shade. Drake felt certain that there had to be at least a few snakes somewhere along this stream.

The young Boggan jogged along the bank, keeping clear of leaf litter and twigs. He was hunting now; he had to be quiet.

Half an hour later, after following many twists and bends in the creek and trekking through marsh grass, mud, and cattails, his efforts were rewarded. Parting the grass stalks, he spied a rock. Resting on it was a large, brown serpent. It was enjoying the sun's rays, its eyes closed. The tongue flickered out every now and then to catch the scents of the bogs.

It was the perfect trophy to bring back to Mandrake. If he took down this brute, the Boggans would have to give him a parade! Drake eagerly started for it, holding his thorn sword to the side.

The cottonmouth had been lying in the sun for a while, and hadn't noticed the approaching Boggan until it was almost in front of its nose. It reacted sluggishly and reared its head up. Drake wasted no time in attacking, swinging the sword at the exposed belly and drawing long slashes on the surface.

The snake hissed and scooted back, surprised at the audacious attack. Moccasins were not normally aggressive, opting for retreat if they were confronted. Drake could not let it reach the water, the snake's haven, which is why his first attack was so head-on. The assassin made sure to put himself between the serpent and the stream.

Which was a really crazy and stupid idea.

The snake tried to maneuver around him, but Drake was there to swipe at it. He had drawn several bloody scratches on the snake's soft belly but that didn't slow it down. After a few more attempts of getting around the Boggan, the cottonmouth decided to turn tail and slither for safety in-land.

"Coward!" Drake snarled as strapped his sword and he leapt for the snake's back. He landed, drew a thorn from his belt, and stabbed it into the scaly skin. The wound wasn't deep; it only served to anger the animal.

The venomous moccasin turned so fast, Drake barley dodged in time. It was fully aroused and focused on getting rid of this annoyance. The assassin ran along the writhing body, evading the snake's attempts to bite him. The snake's fangs flared and its mouth was lined with white tissue; the reason it was called a cottonmouth.

Drake scrambled up the neck and on to the head. The serpent shook back and forth, trying to dislodge him. Holding with all his might, he reached for a thorn. The Boggan raised it up, intending to plunge it in the snake's amber eye.

Suddenly, the monster contorted. Caught off guard, Drake spotted the trick to late and his grip was lost when the cottonmouth bucked. He flew through the air and landed on his back, the wind leaving his lungs.

The snake's mouth filled his vision. It was only his quick reflexes that saved him. Rolling away, drake pulled another thorn from his belt, twisted, and stabbed the snake's nose. The moccasin slithered back then came at him again. The assassin jumped to avoid the lethal bite. He landed lightly behind the snake and watched the head.

That was a costly mistake.

Because Drake payed attention only to the fangs, he didn't see the tail sweeping around to catch him. The heavy, muscled body slammed into the young assassin, knocking and pinning him to the ground. His breaths came in great gasps, like he couldn't get enough oxygen to his lungs. To his horror, the tail proceeded to wrap around his lithe form, enclosing him in a suffocating embrace.

The cottonmouth loomed over him. Its coiled body crushed his bones together painfully. Drake winced in disgust when its tongue brushed his face, tasting him. Then its maw opened up and revealed the long, venomous fangs and the pink insides of its throat.

Fear pumped through Drake as he tried to not to look at his death. "An honorable Boggan would stare death in the face and not blink," Mandrake would preach to him in his lessons. "In fact, he would laugh and spit in death's eye!" Yet being alone in a wasteland with only a snake to eat him, honor was the last concern on Drake's list. What crushed his was the fact that he'll die a failure.

The cottonmouth was about to devour him when they were suddenly plucked from the sand bank. The Boggan let out a startled cry at the sudden movement. Drake's eyes teared up from the wind, blinding him, but he felt the sensation of air all around him and heard the snake hissing vehemently. The serpent's body unraveled its hold on him.

Drake clutched the body as they were both whipped through the air. He cracked op his eyes and was able to make out rough, yellow feet tipped with long black talons wrapped around the snake. The flap of giant wings beat his eardrums, and a triumphant screech tore through the air. Drake looked up to see the feathery belly, streaked with brown, and a wide russet-red tail. Carrying him and the moccasin was the largest of the buteos in the sky: the Red-Tailed Hawk.

_Brilliant, just brilliant! Not only to I get eaten by a snake, but I'm snatched by a hawk in the same exact moment! _Yet he marveled at his luck. The hawk had made an untimely, unintentional rescue!

Blinking away the tears, he saw the land pass under him in a gray blur. He recognized the landscape. They were going to fly over Wrathwood.

Mind racing, Drake turned over his options. Jump from here to the ground? He could make it, but he'd be returning home without a prize. Yet staying up here didn't seem wise either. He couldn't let the red-tail kill the snake; it was his target, he had to slay weight of his improvised thorn sword suddenly became apparent. A little nugget of inspiration grew in his mind and he had a plan.

The assassin scooted up the writhing serpent body, almost losing his grip on the slippery scales twice. Drake reached the giant yellow feet that held a death grip on the snake's torso. The venomous moccasin was getting over its initial surprise of being violently snatched, and was rearing its head up to bite its captor.

At the same time, the hawk's beak was poised to rip its throat out. Using his thighs to stay in place, Drake lifted his upper body, pulled the makeshift sword from his belt, and stabbed the nearest raptor foot.

The red-tail cried out in pain and released the cottonmouth. As Boggan and serpent plummeted, Drake was thankful that he hadn't put any Rot poison on his thorn sword. The hawk would be fine; although probably not happy he lost a meal.

The Boggan assassin turned his face to look at the incoming trees. Pushing through the air, he latched onto the snake again. This was the perfect time to kill the snake, when it couldn't maneuver itself through the air. At least, that is what he thought. Yet if he could do it, so could the brute. The moccasin whipped and contorted its body, shaking off Drake's hold and falling faster than him.

They hit the ground. Drake had been aiming for a relatively clear spot, and landed in the mud to cushion his fall. But the wind left his lungs with a whoosh.

Gasping, he turned himself on his elbows and got to his feet. Drake looked up and saw the hawk circling in the blue sky, looking for them. Drake's free fall ended in the center clearing, a popular hangout for young Boggans and a training area for the warriors. His fellow species stared at him with wide eyes, many looking up to see where the hell he came from. The whispers started as quickly as a forest fire.

But Drake ignored them all and picked up his sword. Where was the snake?

A rustle from the dead foliage grew louder with every second. Emerging from the grass, the hissing moccasin had its mouth wide open and fangs extended. If it hadn't been pissed before, then it surely was now!

"Oh, come on dammit!" Drake cursed in exasperation. Why wasn't the monster dead?! It just freaking fell from the sky!

The moccasin advanced blindingly fast, maw open to receive him. Drake took chance and hurled some thorns at the reptile. Most bounced off but one lodged in the soft tissue in the roof of its mouth. The snake hissed in pain but did not slow down.

Drake knew now how to kill this beast but he had to do it fast. The Boggan warriors were rallying to fight the snake, and he could not let them kill it. _It has to me!_

When the snake was nearly upon him, Drake did not evade. Gritting his teeth and brandishing his thorn sword, he lunged for the monster's mouth.

To all watching, it must looked like he lost it and committed suicide. Drake wouldn't ever know; the snake closed its jaws and trapped him in the dark throat. He didn't need to see to do this though. By jumping in voluntarily, the Boggan missed being injected with venom. Drake slashed his thorn sword wildly, not knowing what he was hitting and not caring.

He kept going at it, almost in a berserker rage. The assassin ignored the slick saliva, the blood spraying on him, and the god awful smell of the snake's insides. The sound of hissing was ten times louder and hurt his ears.

Finally, when he couldn't take it anymore, Drake turned to where he felt was the exit. It was completely dark, and slimy liquid was dripping into his eyes. He had lost his bearings; panic seized him before he could control it. The fear of suffocating fueled him, and he began to strike and lash out with his sword. Drake kept hitting and tearing through the squishy inside, desperate for fresh air.

Just when he thought he would never make it out, he slashed an opening and light poured in. Hungry for it, he dug like an animal. Drake ripped the opening to make it larger and burst into blinding light. Sweet oxygen hit his nostrils and he sucked it in. Noise collided with his eardrums like a tidal wave. His eyes took a few minutes to adjust before he made out the crowd surrounding him...and the limp snake.

Drake slowly looked the creature over. It was dead, and the mouth hanging open crookedly. Blood poured profusely from its maw; its eyes were wide in frozen shock. Drake had completely and utterly destroyed the inside of the snake's throat, and had busted out by the back of its neck.

The young assassin turned his attention back to the crowd. King Mandrake stood in the front line, his son at his side. They both had their jaws loose, stunned beyond the limit. Despite feeling absolutely drained, Drake got to his feet and stood straight. God, he must be quite a sight! He felt covered in blood from head to toe, with snake spit and goo dripping of him. He could already feel the puddle he was making under his feet.

"My King," the Boggan said with a salute. "The moccasin that you requested."

Somehow, Mandrake got his jaw working. "Never, in all my life, have I witnessed such an action as crazy as that. To do that, a Boggan must have a true drive to make a title for himself out of the army. Drake, I myself, your teacher, had not realized the depth of your determination until now." Making his voice louder, he addressed the Boggans. "This my friends, is a true Boggan warrior!"

The Boggans cheered their approval and praise. Drake did not bother to hide his smile. Mandrake's words were all that he needed.

However, the celebration was cut short by a warning call. "Incoming raptor!"

They all looked up to see the brown and red form of the hawk stooping towards them, screeching its own war cry. Boggans scurried away for cover like mice. Mandrake and Dagda quickly moved for shelter.

Drake knew why the red-tail was still here. It wanted food and had spotted it lying dead on the ground. The hawk didn't care if he ate fresh-kill or carrion.

A territorial predator suddenly awakened in Drake. The trophy he had worked so hard for, what he nearly died for, was going to be snatched away by a stupid bird! _Hell no!_

A small bushel of dry brush lay by the snake's head. Drake ran to it, taking out his flint and stone from his pocket. It was the first lesson of 'survival of the fittest' he learned; you never know when you'll need to light a fire. So he never left home without a flint and stone.

Drake struck them together, sparks flying out. It took him three times but a little flame caught on the brush. Shielding it with his hands, the assassin gently blew on it until it got bigger. Soon, it consumed the dead brush. The hawk was almost upon the snake.

Drake grabbed the stem and waved it at the bird. The fire flared brighter at the excessive oxygen. The red-tail cackled in fear and veered away before it could singe its feathers. The hawk tried gain but Drake waved him off with the fiery brush.

The bird of prey banked up, soaring away from the fire. It had decided that trying to take a dead snake from the determined, little being was more trouble than it was worth.

The Boggan watched as the hawk grew smaller in the distance. The fire in his hands died down, having burned up its fuel. The Boggans crept from their hiding places, gawking at the assassin with the burnt brush in his hands.

"He protected his kill against the hawk!" a Boggan shouted. The rest followed up with yells and shouts and roars. They held high their weapons, a sign of respect to Drake.

Mandrake clapped him on the shoulder, even though Drake was still covered in blood and goo. The King was smiling at him, obviously proud of his student and personal assassin. Drake caught the jealous glint in Dagda's eye.

"Now that just clinches it!" Mandrake exclaimed. "This Boggan has undone my expectations! We shall celebrate his valor with a feast- a banquet of snake meat!"

They yelled even louder and immediately began hauling the snake away to prepare for the feast. Mandrake smiled at Drake. "You must go get yourself cleaned up for the party. You did well, my assassin. You did very well!"

So even though he was drenched in blood and saliva and had nearly died several times, Drake was the happiest he had ever been in forever. This was the best day of his life.

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><p><strong>Review please! :)<strong>

**We are going to play, "Where's Nod?" virtual cookies for the winner, if you tell me where he is before I reveal him! Mwahahaha!**

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	4. Field Test

**im sorry guys for not updating in a while. School's a bitch. Im barely passing german…and I hate the class with a burning passion. Seriously, if u could gather all the assholes and shallow people in your school and put them in one class with a teacher who doesn't know how to control them, then that's my 6th period.**

**Anyway, enough with the rain clouds! On with the story and a review at the end!**

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><p>M.K. surveyed the troops that were to follow her orders. Most of them were middle-aged, indicating that they were veterans. M.K. could tell pretty easily. They all had the same look as Ronin. Toned muscles, a regal bearing, and many had lines etched in their faces, the sign of seasons of combat. But it was the look in their eyes that clinched it. Like Ronin, their eyes hid tragedies and hardships behind an iron wall of resolution.<p>

She refrained from rubbing her temples to relive the pressure building up to a headache. The soldiers were giving her a hard time. Ever since Officer Laure introduced her to them in the barracks, the Leafmen and women belittled and questioned her at every turn.

The Leafgirl knew why. The Council probably told them to, just to test her leadership and patience. The soldiers were enjoying it, constantly commenting on her age and legitimacy. They were playing with her temper.

M.K. was a little lost on how to handle it. One side of her wanted to snap at the soldiers and force them to obey her, but she knew that's what they wanted. They also wanted her to beg them to listen to her, but a strong leader wouldn't do that.

At the moment, they were mounted of their hummingbirds and waiting in the branches of a tree. They were scanning the area with their hands on their weapons. None of them knew what was in store for them or what they would face. M.K. didn't relax; if she wanted this test to look authentic to the Council, then she had to treat it like it was the real thing.

However, Officer Laure did give her a message from the Council: search and recover the bottle.

She had no idea what the hell that meant, but it had to be part of her test.

"Well, are we going to move or what?" a blond Leafwoman asked abruptly, jerking M.K. out of her thoughts.

"Not until the scout returns," the red-head replied calmly.

The Leafwoman snorted. "This is wasting time."

"Time spent in reconnaissance is seldom wasted."

"...What?"

"Just one of my favorite quotes. I don't know who said it first. I just picked up from my dad."

This seems to stop the Leafwoman's complaints and the group fell into silence once again. Then M.K.'s ears picked up on the familiar buzzing of hummingbird wings. The scout returned and saluted M.K.

"All clear sir...I mean uh...ma'am" he said awkwardly. She smiled to let him know it was okay.

"Let's move," she addressed her troops. "Fly low, four feet above the ground, arrow formation."

They obeyed without question, which was the first time ever today, and followed her down. When they reached the correct altitude, they leveled off and flew just above the undergrowth of the forest, falling into the traditional V-shaped flight formation, with M.K. leading them. The red-head marveled at how silent the hummingbirds could fly when they needed to. She patted her bird's side good-naturedly, but this made it tweet in response. M.K. winced, noting to not do that again. She was aiming for combat silence since she didn't know what she was flying into.

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><p>Some meters behind the group, sitting in the branches, two Leafmen watched through binoculars. General Ronin smiled approvingly at M.K.'s tactics. So far, she was doing well, taking her leadership responsibilities in stride and deciding the precaution of being quiet. Finn observed next to him, taking down notes as they followed the group. The Council needed someone impartial to assess M.K.'s actions.<p>

"So far, your girl's doing good Ronin," Finn praised, obviously impressed. "If she keeps this up, she'll figure out that we're watching her before the test is over."

"Then we better be careful old friend," Ronin replied as he packed the binoculars in his saddle bag. "This could be risky for us."

"As if," Finn scoffed as he packed his pair away as well. "We mastered silent movement and stalking years ago."

"I didn't mean me. My stalking is fine. Yours is slipping, however." He didn't give Finn the chance to retort before he flicked his reins and took off. They kept to the canopy and always a good distance behind the unknowing Leafmen and women as they tailed the group.

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><p>M.K.'s green eyes continually scanned the flora around her, though she didn't move her head an inch. Every sense was on high alert: eyes, ears, nose, even that instinctual primordial sense that all beings possessed. She kept her breathing slow and even.<p>

The red-head sniffed the air with her nose. Unexpectedly, an aroma filled her nostrils. Immediately, she held up her fist and halted her patrol. The hummingbirds came to a standstill and hovered. M.K. sniffed the air again for confirmation. There it was again; the smell of mud and decaying organisms, with just a hint of rotting plants underlying. It was the Boggans' signature BO.

Reminding herself that this was just a simulation, M.K. combed the foliage with her eyes again, while very subtly pulling the reins back. She reached her hand back and patted her hummingbird's rump. The bird was trained by the signal to fly backwards very slowly. Seeing this, her soldiers followed suit. Slowly, the hummingbirds flew backwards, their riders not making a sound.

All the while, M.K. had never stopped scanning the forest for a sign. Her patience was rewarded when there was just the tiniest flicker of movement in the branches above, at an angle from her squad. Then a tree blocked her view as the hummingbirds were guided behind it.

Using a hand signal, M.K. ordered her troops to land on the forest floor. The birds had sensed their riders' wariness and were silent, not daring to cheep or make a noise. They didn't dismount, in case they needed to take off again. M.K. pulled out her binoculars from her saddle bag. She used the giant, gnarled tree root to hide her and her mount, and kept the binoculars out of the sun so the light wouldn't glint off the glass and warn their quarry.

Once again, she slowly scanned the forest starting where she saw the flicker of movement in the branches. Hopefully, they weren't spotted before they could hide and can take them by surprise.

There! She stilled her binoculars and saw a figure walking along a branch, carelessly out in the open. Initially, she thought it was a Boggan due to the rags and mismatched bone armor it wore.

However, the figure did not walk with hunched shoulders, and had a slim, lithe shape. A wooden sword was strapped to its waste. M.K. smirked when she spotted the green boots that it wore.

A Leafman in the disguise of a Boggan. That was her test?

She could now see more and more in the canopy, a group spread out between two trees. All of them wore weird combinations of stolen Boggan armor, probably obtained after some battle years ago. They carried sticks and wooden practice swords that are given to first-timers for training. Half of them had bows strung on their shoulders, along with a quiver of arrows (probably blunt). M.K. didn't see any birds, giving her squad the advantage of flight.

She turned to address her squad, all them looking at her for direction. She hid a grimace. "Our targets are in the two trees across from us, dressed as Boggans and armed with practice weapons. They haven't any mounts that I can see, and I have every reason to believe that they aren't aware we are here."

"We're lucky that they didn't see us flying straight for them," the Leafwoman from before said. "How did you know they were there?"

M.K. smiled mischievously and tapped her nose. "The odor is a dead giveaway. What's your name?"

"Mira."

"Mira, I need you to scale this tree and find out the positioning of the guards. Do it fast, but don't be seen. Please." She added the please involuntarily; her mother had drilled into her good manners since she was a child.

Mira had cocked an eyebrow at the word in the order but complied and bounded up the tree trunk, using the ridges in the bark as footholds.

M.K. dismounted and knelt, starting to draw in the reddish-brown dirt with her finger. She drew three big circles to represent the trees and lines for the trunks. The Leafgirl frowned at the drawing, wondering about it before a thought crossed her mind. Officer Laure's cryptic message about a bottle. She had only told M.K. because she was in charge, but maybe M.K. should share it with her team. They should know what they were aiming for.

"Alright, listen," she said, keeping her voice low so as not to be detected by the Leafmen-Boggans in the trees. "I was told that we needed to find a bottle, probably with something important, and these guys will most likely have it. There's a dozen of us, and I'm estimating more of them. We'll know more when Mira gets back." Many of the Leafmen nodded their understanding, but M.K. thought she saw a glimmer of approval in one bearded man's eye.

At the word, the Leafwoman returned, huffing a little from her climb and descent. She saluted, "They have two dozen soldiers, twelve distributed in each tree." Seeing the drawing in the dirt, she began sketching the general positions of the guards. "That's double the amount of us. At the top, in the center of the branches are red flags, guarded on all sides."

"Birds?"

"None. All on foot and most with bows and arrows."

M.K. pieced it together. "The flags are our objective. We take them, we take the trees, and we end the field test. But I was told that there'd be a bottle..."

Mira looked up at her. "There was something out of place. One guard was posted between the trees, on the ground." She used her finger to rub a dot in the dirt. "I could barely see him because of the ferns but one of his buddies came to give him a canteen. If it wasn't for that, I wouldn't have known he was there."

One guard all by his lonesome? If that wasn't a clue, then M.K. didn't know what was. She was glad that she had shared about the bottle with her group. The Leafgirl looked over her troops, and then her eyes glanced over the hummingbirds and the large leaf shields strapped to their saddles. The ground they stood on was composed of red dirt or clay, and she swiped some on her finger to examine it. The pieces fell in place and she had a plan.

"Alright, this is what we're going to do," M.K. announced, gaining the men and women's full attention. "But for this to work, we'll need to perform the flying turtle maneuver."

The response was dead silence and a lot of blank looks. "I've never heard of such a thing," a man replied slowly.

M.K. smirked. "That's because I just made it up." Before they could question her further, she fired the next question at Mira. "How do you feel about making your hair darker for the day?"

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><p>Ronin and Finn silently watched from their hiding place near the top of the tree, for what felt like half an hour. They constantly kept watch on the two trees occupied by the Leafmen-Boggans, and on the surroundings for any sort of activity. For a while, nothing happened.<p>

The seasoned warriors had seen M.K. spotted the "enemy" in the canopy and had quietly backed her team away, behind the tall hickory tree where they were now. From their vantage point, it was obvious that the Leafmen in the trees hadn't seen them, for they carried out sentry duty like normal. Now they were waiting for M.K.'s plan to be put into action. Assuming there was a plan...

"What's keeping them?" Finn asked softly, for maybe the hundredth time.

Ronin snorted. "We've been on worse stake-outs and reconnaissance missions than this. Where has all that patience you had years ago gone?"

Finn scowled. "This is different. It's not a real mission."

"Give her time. She knows what she's doing." Ronin had faith in M.K. He wouldn't admit it to many people, but he really wanted her as his apprentice. The girl had so much potential and he wanted to be the one to cultivate it. Ronin didn't have much faith in young people; M.K. was changing his view on that.

He watched the trees through his binoculars again; still no sign of anything. The sounds of the cicadas were soothing and were making his eyelids heavy. Some of the disguised Leafmen were yawning. Perhaps because it was so tranquil that Ronin didn't see what was coming. Or even heard it coming.

The general had the lens to his eyes when Finn patted him on the shoulder. The red-bearded Leafman was taking notes and had an unobstructed view, therefore he saw it first. Ronin followed his pointing finger.

At first to his eyes, it looked like a green ball was skimming through the air, only inches above the forest floor and making a beeline for the occupied trees. Ronin then spotted the multiple pairs of wings beating fast. Six hummingbirds in all flying close together; it was a wonder that they didn't bump each other. The birds were in perfect sync, something only hummingbirds can do. On each bird was a Leafman, holding a shield and overlapping it with the man next to him. It looked like an armadillo rolled into a ball and grew wings.

"God above," Finn breathed. "What in the name of the Queen are they doing?"

"I believe they are attempting to attack the trees and get the flags."

Finn scowled. "I know that but-"

"Just watch."

The Leafmen were getting very close to the trees. A sentry, his eyes half-closed in sleepiness, suddenly snapped his head up at the sight of the incoming hummingbirds and shields. He delayed for a few seconds, not believing what he was seeing. Then, he shouted sounding confused and choked. Commotion ran up and down the branches as the Leafmen-Boggans prepared to attack and guard the flag.

"I knew that wouldn't work," Finn stated. "There was no way that they'd reach the flag before they-"

"There's a another one!" Ronin interrupted. Both men stared as a second formation of humming birds came from the other direction, heading for the second tree. The sentries were already assaulting the first group with wooden arrows, that bounced off harmlessly. They were giving all their attention to it, unaware that a dark horse was heading for the other flag.

The second group ascended up the trunk and through the branches. A sentry shouted the alarm, but it was too late; the formation was barreling past the sentries, arrows deflecting uselessly off the shields. One sentry took a brave stand in front of the flag, but a shield shoved him out f the way. M.K.'s troops dismounted, three of them covering their comrades with a shield as the other went for the flag.

The disguised Leafmen were bewildered as the man grabbed the flag and held it triumphantly above his head. However, the sentries in the first tree did not let up their onslaught of the first formation.

"They may have one, but they need both flags if M.K. wants to past this test," Finn said.

Ronin rolled his eyes. "Ever the pessimist, Finnikin?"

The other man bristled. "I've told you how much I hate my full name!"

Their banter was cut off by loud war cry. A woman had sprang up from the formation, a stick in hand. She ran at the enemy archers with such ferocity, they fumbled their arrows and dropped their bows. She jabbed her stick into the torsos, leaving them gasping for breath. She was already moving, a ponytail of red hair trailing behind her like a ribbon.

"M.K.!" Finn shouted. "What's she doing? Ronin?" The general ignored and stared at the red-head hard.

They watched as she leaped from branch to branch, attacking all the archers but only giving them minor blows, never hitting them over the head. The enemy began to concentrate their efforts on her, giving the formation the opportunity to advance. A Leafman dismounted and bolted for the flag. The red-head warrior shouted in victory at the sight of her comrade holding the flag. A sentry shouted for a cease-fire.

"I guess that's it then," Finn muttered. "Shouldn't have ever doubted M.K. Who knew she could pack such a wallop! Those guys will have bruises for weeks!"

"That's not M.K." Ronin said.

"What?!"

The general pointed at the Leafwoman. She had taken off her helmet and was shouting her exhalation at the win. Her hair was a lot longer than M.K.'s, her features sharper, and had blue eyes. Finn was incredulous.

"S-so where is she?!"

Ronin smirked. "Getting her true objective."

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><p>The sentry on the ground, hidden by the ferns, watched the whole scene unfold. His job was specifically to not leave his post and protect whatever it was inside the ferns. His fellows up in the trees had to do their own jobs, and from the sound of it, it was more exciting than it was on the ground.<p>

The disguised Leafman snorted and adjusted his "armor" again. He hated wearing these random pieces of bark and animal bones. It was uncomfortable and stank something horrible. He knew this was M.K.'s test and wished she would either admit defeat now or win. Just why was he on the ground?

The hairs on the back of his neck rose before he heard the sound. Quickly, he turned around only to have the end of a stick pushed against the soft skin of his throat. Holding the stick was a very happy red-head.

"Now soldier," M.K. lectured smugly. "If this was a real battle, you'd be dead in no time."

The guard dropped his wooden sword and surrendered politely. "You win M.K. Just don't let it get to your head." He held up his hands, letting a little smile crack his face. _At least I can go home now,_ he thought.

"I won't," she replied, less bravado in her voice. She lowered her stick and walked further into the ferns to retrieve her prize.

Nestled in the moss and shielded by the ferns, was the bottle. It was made from green glass and had a cork in the opening. A message was rolled up inside. M.K. picked it up, but put it down again when she saw something next to it. A dagger, twelve inches long and beautifully crafted.

M.K. picked it up and felt how balanced it was, like it was made just for her. She could tell the blade was made out of the finest rock, finer than a Leafman's katana. The hilt was engraved with the signature green vines, and in the center of the cross-guard was the Moonhaven crest.

M.K. placed the dagger back down and picked up the bottle again. She slid the message out. Her hands were almost shaking in anticipation as she unrolled the parchment. The broken sunlight illuminated the words scrawled on its surface.

_Congratulations, Mary Katherine Radcliffe. If you are reading this, then that means you have passed our test. Return to Moonhaven and present me with this scroll and the ceremonial dagger. You are now the official protégé and future successor of General Ronin of the Leafmen. May the heavens watch over you and may your decisions be guided by wisdom. Good luck!_

_Queen Tara Of The Forest_

M.K. could barely breathe. She did it! She actually has the job!

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><p><strong>Thats it! I need to post these chapters so you guys can read the juicy stuff! But it's never a good idea to rush a story, you gotta pace yourselves or your readers won't like it. Anyway, please review, because you need to. RIGHT NOW!<strong>


	5. Conflicting Forces

****Here's another chapter. I'm begging you guys to have patience, for nod is still not showing his face but don't worry...I HAVE A PLAN! He's not hiding in his shell...teehee****

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><p>Drake decided to slip away from his party around midnight. If he had to stay any longer, his heart would give out because of how much pride and happiness he felt. The day had tired him and out and he felt dead on his feet. His head was swimming a little from the drink he had: a strong, bitter concoction, made of...what was it again? Drake couldn't remember.<p>

Of course, he wanted to head to bed but he had one more thing to do. He walked drunkenly up the bridges toward the top of Wrathwood. At the top, the moon shines brilliantly, casting its soft white light on the dull wasteland. Feeling unbalanced, Drake placed a hand against the warped wood and brings his fingers up to his mouth. His whistle, usually piercing and loud, sounds weak and sluggish.

Nevertheless, it does the trick. Out of the dark landscape, a black shape flies eagerly towards him. It lands on silent, black wings and peers at him with round yellow eyes.

"Hey Merle, my girl," Drake slurs and teeters over to his grackle. He stumbles over his own feet, but his bird catches him with her gigantic beak.

Regaining his balance, the assassin strokes the ebony black head feathers, right where she likes it. "Thanks," he says, then chuckles when he realizes what he said earlier. "Did you here that Merle my girl? I'm a poet and I didn't know it."

"You're an idiot, and everyone knows it," a harsh voice says behind him. Trying to turn around, Drake once again loses his balance and Merle catches him again before his head can hit the ground.

"You're lucky you have that fleabag, you bumbling oaf!" the voice snaps. "She's got more brains than you!"

Drake knew exactly who it was; that voice is unforgettable. "Ah, lay off Zuri, I only had a drink." With Merle's help, he regains his feet and looks at the figure through swimming vision.

"Whether it was one or ten, you can't handle it, you insolent whelp!" she snaps. "Now come with me to my burrow so you can have a proper drink!" Her tone left no room for argument.

Drake being drunk Drake, decided to argue. "But your drinks... are dis...disgusting..."

"Oh for the love of Rot, now the boy is stuttering!" She took his arm and draped it over her shoulder, taking him down the stairs. Merle cawed her goodbye and nestled where she perched, loyally waiting for her rider's return. Zuri dragged him down the spiral staircase, crossing some bridges to walk down hallways. Drake protested weakly at first, saying "if he can kill an adult snake and fight off a giant hawk, he can hold his liquor," but she hears none of it.

It felt like forever before they reach the ground, at the very musty bottom of Wrathwood. The dirt is moist and cold. Zuri uncaringly shoved Drake away, the latter being too dizzy to keep a standing position. Through sleepy eyesight, he watches as she pushes some dead leaves aside, revealing a hole. She grabs him again and they jump down into it.

Though it is pitch dark, Zuri walks confidently through her tunnel, dragging the young Boggan with her. The tunnel opens up into a more spacious cave, completely black. She guides him over to the cot, knowing the exact layout of the cave, and drops him on it. Drake laid there unmoving, listening to the sounds of her shuffling, cursing, and the thunk of wood being thrown in a pile. There's a scratching noise, followed by a tiny flame. It catches and grows brighter.

A minute later, the fire is raging on the wood and illuminating the cave with dim, orange light. Zuri lights the end of a stick and moves about the cave, lighting various lanterns of different shapes and sizes. Soon, the whole room is adequately lit and the smells of incense burn through the still air.

At this point, Drake succumbs to fatigue and intoxication, drifting off to sleep. He faintly hears Zuri cursing him, and the sound of boiling water and the occasional clang of a ladle against an iron pot. All the noises sound far away and muffled, like he was underwater.

The Boggan barely feels the hand that lifts up the back of his head. A ladle is put to his lips and its content is poured into his throat. Two seconds pass, before a horrid taste invades his esophagus, bringing him out of his nap. He immediately sits up and gags to get the liquid out, but Zuri clamps a hand down to prevent him from spitting it out.

"Swallow, you idiot!" she scolds. Drake refuses a bit longer, but then can no longer stand the taste and swallows. He felt his insides cringe as he forced his body to take in the revolting drink.

Zuri removes her hand from his mouth, allowing him to gasp at the sudden attack on his taste buds. She places a mug of water at his lips, and he drinks greedily, eager to rid the flavor from his mouth. It partially washes it away. Drake drops his head back on the pillow, feeling exhausted.

"It should work in a minute or two," Zuri mutters.

True to her word, the potion works its magic. The fogginess in his head is pushed away, like curtains pulling back to reveal brilliant sunlight in a dark room. His eyelids become lighter, his vision returns to normal, as does his hearing. Drake feels alert and attentive, the dizziness dispelled from his head.

The assassin slowly sits up, not trusting his equilibrium. Though the effects of the drink are gone, he feels a pounding headache coming on. He lets a groan escape as he rubs his rubs his temples to try to relieve the pressure.

If he expected sympathy from Zuri, then he was sorely disappointed. Drake glanced up and looked around the familiar underground burrow. It was spacious but also cozy. The ceiling was high enough so you didn't have to bend or bump your head. The dirt walls and floor were dry due to the constant fire that burned in the fireplace. Somewhere above the flames, a hole allowed the smoke to escape. Woven reed mats covered the floor, and five cots lined the right wall, one of which he was sitting in. The other wall had a long counter and cabinets. Dead leaves and empty husks were strewn across the table, or hanging in bundles from the ceiling. Pots and cauldrons held questionable contents, while glass vials contained mysterious liquids that Drake did not want to investigate.

"The headache will go away in a couple of hours," Zuri said from her spot at the counter, mixing something in a bowl. "Hopefully, your taste for sleer goes with it."

Drake focused on the female Boggan. She hadn't changed since the last time he saw her. Zuri had a slim figure but was short for a Boggan. When Drake was ten, he almost reached her shoulder. Now at nineteen, he towered over her. Did he take advantage of the height difference? Well, he would, but Zuri would kill him if he tried to assert his manly dominance. If he even said the words, "manly dominance," she'd laugh and say there was no such thing in her burrow. Then, she would smack him.

The female still wore the same clothes he'd always seen in her in; a dress sewn from dead leaves that floated above the floor at the ankles, where her feet were clad in makeshift vole fur boots. It matched the ragged, vole fur shawl on her shoulders. A headdress, woven from cattail leaves and adorned with small pebbles, covered her head. The veil was pulled back to reveal her mouse-like face. She wore a big necklace of bones on her neck.

Drake fixed a glare on her. "I was completely fine! You didn't have to make me drink that!"

She snorted derisively, "If I hadn't found you, you would've fell off Wrathwood and broke your neck." He could tell she didn't want to argue about this.

"Well….can I please have something for the headache?" he asked submissively, hoping to appease her enough to give him something. His migraine had grown worse since he came to.

She spun around and rummaged around the cluttered counter top, pushing wilted leaves and roots around as she searched for the right herb. "You're lucky I've collected extra ginger and feverfew! The bones told me there would be severe headaches in the near future."

Zuri was not joking. The bones really did tell her. On top of being the Boggan's best healer, she also told the future. Most of the time, she used her bones, but she could also tell it in the way birds fly, how a flower dies, or by the changing shapes of the clouds. Sometimes, the message would come to her in dreams or visions, but that was very rare.

The Boggan healer turned back to him with a steaming cup of ginger and feverfew tea. Drake sipped it slowly, careful not to burn his tongue. She watched him, making sure he drank it all. Drake would never call Zuri a mom out loud, but thinking it over, she was the closest that had ever come to it for him. She didn't put up with any nonsense. When Mandrake took him in, she was there to patch up his injuries and scold him for it. When she heard that it was Jok that had abused him in the past, she refused to treat any wounds the Boggan might sustain. Mandrake had to make Jok give her and Drake a public apology before she relented.

"You could have been killed you know," Zuri muttered as she organized her herbs, bringing Drake out of his thoughts. "And all for what? A useless title!"

"I had everything under control," he replied. "All I've wanted was to belong somewhere. I look different from other Boggans, so yeah, I had to prove myself. Even though I'm Mandrake's top assassin, I still had to prove myself to them, and I did. So it's done. The title is not useless."

"A title is not something you can touch, hold, or see, not even something you can feel. Next to having a friend or a mate, a title is meaningless and empty."

"Nobody wanted to be my friend, and I was tired of trying to make one. Besides, I'm not interested in finding a mate. I have more important things to think about than girls."

"You're nineteen now, Drake," she said. "That's the time most males pick a spouse. You'll be the oddball if you don't follow that custom."

"Maybe I'll get one, maybe I won't. I think I'm beyond caring though."

Zuri gazed at him for the longest time, her yellow eyes studying him like he was a plant specimen. Drake was surprised when he saw concern in her expression. She spoke softly, "Oh, Drake. Don't you ever tire of the killing?"

He brought his gaze to the floor. "I do what I'm told." At times, he felt disgusted at what his job consisted of, and what he had done in the past, but for the most part, he didn't feel anything. The assassin didn't enjoy killing, nor did he try to escape it. There was nowhere to go anyway. It was a matter of survival; he just lived with it.

"What if one day, you're told to do a dark thing? A task that will damn your heart to hell."

Drake bit back a snarl of irritation; this wasn't the first time the healer had brought this up. "I'm already going to hell, Zuri! What darker things can I do besides assassination?"

She didn't answer and continued to gaze at him sadly, which just made him angrier. He hated pity. Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of feet slapping against dirt and someone tripping and swearing their way down the tunnel. A Boggan appeared at the entrance, dirt scuffing his legs where he had fallen in the dark.

"Lady Zuri," he dipped his head in deference, and looked surprise when he saw Drake sitting on the cot. "M-my Lord Drake! Are you hurt, sir?"

"No, I'm fine. Just visiting an old friend." Drake gave Zuri a pointed glare, reminding her that he didn't come here willingly. She completely ignored him.

"What is your message?" Zuri queried.

The Boggan regained his composure. "King Mandrake has summoned you, to cast the bones."

The fortune-teller stiffened, as did Drake. The only reason the Boggan King ever asks the old healer to tell the future, is because he wants to go to battle. Or war.

* * *

><p>Mandrake was in his throne room, sitting elegantly on his rotting carcass throne, his bat cloak draped over it. Dagda stood by his right side, back straight as a soldier. On the left side of the throne stood the high appointed advisers and commanders of Mandrake's army.<p>

Zuri and Drake walked in, escorted by the messenger and two Boggan guards. Zuri's veil was pulled over her face, leaving only a gap for her sharp eyes to peer through. It was considered bad luck if the fortune-teller casted the bones with her face open to the public view; Boggans thought that the teller could easily be corrupted by malicious looks in the crowd and the bones affected. Drake thought it was a stupid superstition, but never said so.

Mandrake looked up from examining his bludgeon to greet them with a coy smile. He stood and Drake and Zuri bowed. He signaled for them to stand.

"Zuri, my dear friend, thank you for coming," he said smoothly. "And Drake, I'm glad you're here. Stand at my right side."

The assassin moved silently to where he was told, taking a place next to Dagda. The Prince shot him a malevolent look, but he ignored it and watched Zuri as she lowered to her knees. She reached under her shawl and unrolled a rectangular reed mat on the floor in front of her. Then she brought out two incense bottles, one filled with animal blood, the other filled with infamous Rot poison. This was actually Drake's first time watching a casting, and he was on edge and curious to see what would happen.

"To begin," she said in a hollow voice. "Please state your purpose for this telling."

Mandrake replied, "War."

"With who?"

"Queen Tara and the Leafmen." Everyone in the room knew that already, but the statements were part of the ritual. You couldn't skip over them.

Zuri was silent for a moment before continuing, "What do you want to hear in the blessing?"

Mandrake smirked arrogantly. "That the battle I fight tomorrow is victorious and crushes an important posting of the Leafmen's borders." All the commanders and Dagda growled and grunted in anticipation. Zuri waited for silence; when they quieted she held out her hands, palms up.

"Then let's begin," and with that, the sticks in the incense suddenly flicked aflame. Streams of scented smoke curled in the air, reminding Drake of the movements of the moccasin. Soon, the incenses' cloying smell filled the room. Drake had to fight to keep from coughing at the overpowering smells of blood and Rot.

Zuri closed her eyes, and everything got eerily quiet. Then, she began to hum.

It started deep and guttural, like the sounds a wolf makes when it begins to hunt. Though it was a low baritone, it was loud in volume. The hairs on the assassin's arms stood on end; he didn't know why, but the humming sounded so primitive, it awoke something ancient in his blood. It was affecting the other Boggans too. Their shoulders were hunched like hunters and their muscles were tense as if they were ready to pounce. Even Mandrake, most of the time calm and collected, sat more rigid in his seat.

Zuri's humming became faster and higher. Now she was murmuring ancient language while humming in between. The smoke was getting thicker, the smells almost suffocating. The Boggan commanders were even twitchier; everybody seemed on edge like something would jump out and shatter them.

Her humming reached a crescendo, and she waved her hands out, making the smoke curl around her. It was like two dragons had the nose sniffles. It was that cloudy in the room, and Drake was itching to run out the room for fresh air.

Zuri tore her bone necklace from her neck and threw them down on the reed mat; the sudden clack of them hitting the floor nearly made Drake jump out of his skin. Just as the bones settled on the ground, an invisible force shoved the incense bottles over, shattering them and spilling blood and Rot poison. Mandrake shot to his feet and a few of the commanders yelped, including Dagda. Unease took over Drake. The fact that an unseen hand had broken the bottles did not look like a good sign.

Zuri did not break from her concentrated mind, though he could see her annoyed twitch of her eye when the bottles broke. The smoke hung in the air, stationary, refusing to filter out. The Rot poison spilled on the floor simmered and ate away at the already dead wood. Drake watched it warily. Boggans were immune to the potion but too much contact with it could prove fatal.

The bone caster leaned over to inspect the bones reading. Each bone had a blank side while the other had a design etched into it. The assassin remembered Zuri telling him about it once; you wanted your reading to have more bones on the designed side than the blank side. The latter meant that the future was unclear and anything could happen.

Nobody stepped closer to see the bones. They waited impatiently for Zuri to begin her interpretation.

"It is split down the middle," she declared. It made the Boggans shift nervously on their feet. Half of the bones were designed; the other half was blank.

Zuri pointed to a bone with two circles crossing each other, a dot in the middle section. "Two lovers will be present at this battle," she said. Then she pointed to a bone spiral and a line through it. "It will take place among the greenery."

Mandrake interrupted her. "I know where my battle is taking place. I chose the spot! Now tell me who will win."

Zuri's eyes flashed at him, and though her face was covered, Drake could tell she was snarling. Zuri hated being interrupted by anyone. But she seemed to reign in her indignation and continued with the telling. "The bone with the three lines means many will be injured, however it fell next to the bone with the square, meaning just as many will be healed. Two identical bones in my collection have fallen across from each other; their designs represent powers, so magic will be clashing."

The bone caster pointed to circular bone with a star-like etching, sitting in the center of the pile. "The effects of this fight will have resonance, yet how powerful, I cannot tell." She didn't explain exactly what that meant, leaving Drake a little confused and curious.

The King was satisfied so far, and Drake got his hopes up, thinking this battle wouldn't be so bad after all. The Boggan commanders were murmuring reassurances to each other.

"However, half of these bones are flipped," Zuri stated gravely. "I'm forbidden from turning them over. The future is unclear, but one thing is for sure." The healer pointed at the smallest bone in the pile. It had a crescent-shaped line in the center of a triangle. "This one only appears when-"

Suddenly the bone she pointed to jumped. Zuri snatched her hand away, and the Boggans cried in surprise and fear. The bone jumped again, higher into the air, and landed with a _clack_ on the center circle bone. Nobody dared move, their eyes riveted to the little bone.

"Impossible," the Boggan female breathed.

Mandrake swept to his feet, staff in hand like he was ready for a fight. "What does it mean?"

Zuri bowed her head until it almost brushed the floor. Drake was shocked; it was the most public act of deference he had ever seen her display. Her voice was full of wonder. "Mandragora has interfered with the future! She's changed it!"

Commotion erupted, questions being bounced back and forth. Drake's mind raced. Mandragora was their primary goddess, creator of the Boggans as the story goes, and the maker of Rot. He wasn't a very religious person but Drake knew to respect the goddess and all her deeds. But never had the goddess spoken to them so...directly. Usually, she just left them to their own devices.

"Calm down everybody," Mandrake called, raising his hands for silence. The questions died down and they all looked to the King, but Zuri still stared at the bones. Something flashed in her eyes, but it was gone before Drake could name it.

"Zuri," Mandrake began. "Are you sure about this? The great goddess has never taken an interest in our affairs. Are you absolutely positive about this?"

She nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. I've done this for hundreds of years, and I've never seen it happen before, but the trade was passed down to me by the former fortune-teller, and he had witnessed such a thing, centuries ago."

A silence stretched after that, until Mandrake asked his next question, "What does the future say now?"

Zuri did not reply, only because she needed to phrase her telling just right and pick her words carefully. Drake could tell she was thinking cautiously, just by the way she closed her eyes. The silence was deafening, no one even daring to breathe.

The Boggan female opened her eyes and looked right into Drake's, a completely unwavering gaze. "Everything will change."

* * *

><p>M.K. rubbed her eyes, hoping she didn't look to tired. She had been woken in the middle of the night by Finn, and told that Ronin needed to talk to her. Though usually she was a grouch to anyone who woke her up too early, the fact that Ronin's message couldn't wait till morning meant it was important. The girl's curiosity overcame her crankiness, though that didn't stop her from snapping at Finn to get lost so she could get dressed.<p>

After the field test, M.K. rode her hummingbird home triumphantly, her squad of veterans whooping behind her like a bunch of kids. They no longer looked down on her, but showed deference and respect. Ronin and Finn had gone ahead to report the victory. M.K. wasn't surprised that they had followed her in secret. Ronin had nudged Finn, gave him a knowing look, Finn glared, and M.K. got the feeling she missed out on a conversation.

Queen Tara was pleased at her results, as were the Council, when she presented her letter and dagger. They wrote it off for some record, announced the declaration, and congratulated her. Ronin squeezed her shoulder and did not try to hide the pride in his eyes. M.K. had never felt more on top of the world until that moment.

Once all the formalities were done and she was able to get away from the old men and women of the Council, she met Cece outside. Right then, M.K. came down with a headache. She had felt it during the simulation but it was so small she had ignored it. Now it pounded on the inside of her skull. Cece reassured her that it was fine that she missed Nim's party tonight. It didn't really mattered much; Nim Galuu had a party almost every single night.

The headache had prompted her to go to bed earlier than usually. She knew the real work would begin tomorrow. Although, she didn't expect to be at Ronin's office door in the middle of the night. M.K. rubbed her eyes one more time, then turned the handle of the door and stepped in.

The office was much like the man who resided in it: neat, organized, formal, and giving nothing away. Flower lanterns gave off a soft glow, and M.K. had to stifle a yawn. General Ronin was sitting at his desk, shuffling through papers and rubbing his temples. _Geez, doesn't the man ever sleep? _Ronin didn't look tired at all, and his uniform was completely unruffled.

"Oh, good you're here," he said as she came in. His eyes did not leave the papers in his hand. "I'm sorry Finn had to wake you up at this time of night." When he did look at her, he had a faint smile on. "You didn't bite his head off, did you?"

M.K. chuckled, "He got off lightly for it. The lucky one." She fell silent and waited for him to tell her what was so important that Finn had to risk enduring her wrath. Ronin glanced over the papers again.

"The Boggans are going to attack us tomorrow at dawn."

The red-head stiffened, not believing what she had just heard. "What?" she gasped. "How do you know this?" All her sleepiness was shocked out of her.

"We have a mole within the Boggans," he replied. "They alerted us that Mandrake is making a move at the crack of dawn on our western border, at the place where the stream splits. As you know, that is one of our outposts that look out to the mountains. The territory there is sparsely populated by a few Jinn, so it's easy for them to slip through the forest without detection. In a couple of hours, we'll organize a platoon, station ourselves down their, and surprise them in the morning."

M.K. was having a hard time processing this. "Wait, you have a mole?! _A Boggan mole?_ When were you going to tell me this?"

"I just told you, M.K." Ronin said. "I could only tell you only after you were officially inducted as my successor; we can't just hand out that secret to a common soldier." He paused, and M.K. realized that he was right. "Since you're now my protégé, you'll be exposed to more delicate information than the other Leafmen hear. I trust that you can keep the secrets and not brag about it to your friends."

"Of course," she replied confidently. The red-head recognized the fragility of such a situation, and knew better than to tell people about it and risk exposing the informant. But she couldn't contain her curiosity. "Will you tell me who the mole is?"

"In due time. That is also very delicate information. It is best that you don't know that for now."

M.K. trusted Ronin, so she decided to accept that for the moment. Right now, they had other things to discuss. She was very much awake now; an impending Boggan attack would do that to a person.

* * *

><p>"Drake," Mandrake called. "I'd like to have a word with you."<p>

The assassin turned back to his master as the rest of the Boggans present that night filed out of the throne room and to their respective rooms. Zuri had been the first to leave, right after she proclaimed that "everything will change." As soon as she had left, Mandrake cleared the room of tension by laughing at Zuri's drama. Drake, however, knew how serious she was just by the way she stared at him.

He made to approach Mandrake when a hand grabbed his arm. Feeling an instant flare of anger, he twisted to get the hand off and realized it was Dagda. The Boggan was giving him a death glare.

"Just because you think you're the best, doesn't mean he prefers you over me," he hissed. Jealously radiated off him like body oder. "I'm the prince, _his son._ You're just a mud rat he pitied. Got it?" He nearly spat out the last word. Dagda released him and stalked off before Drake could respond.

Shaking off his anger at the uncalled for hostility, he approached Mandrake and fell to one knee in a bow. The King didn't comment on the exchange of him and Dagda, but Drake knew he heard every word of it.

"Quite an exciting day wasn't it?" the Boggan remarked conversationally. "You put the show on with killing that snake and warding off that hawk. They'll be talking about it for weeks, maybe even months. The party we had was just as wild...and now this theatrical prophesying Zuri weaved out of the air!"

Drake stood from his bow. "You don't take her telling seriously?"

"I have a liberal thinking mind set. I don't believe in all that traditional, voodoo muck. I only asked her to read the bones to satisfy some of the older, decrepit generals in my army."

"If you don't like your conservative generals, my King, then why not discharge and replace them?"

Mandrake smirked. "A good point you have there, but I cannot. They have experience and valuable knowledge, and their advice to me is sound most of the time. But I didn't keep you here to discuss politics; I have something for you."

The young assassin raised an eyebrow. The King reached behind his throne and pulled out a bundle. Excitement coursed through him when he saw what it was.

A cloak and a bone helmet. The Boggan's badge of honor. Only the best warriors received such a gift. Mandrake had his bat cape, Dagda wore a rat coat and skull, and he remembered that Jok always donned on a mole cloak with the bony paws as a necklace. Now he was being given one, by Mandrake.

He took the bundle and unfolded the cloak. It was made of pure ebony feathers, styled to look like wings with clasp to secure it. The feathers were fresh and shiny. Without hesitation, he put it on and secured the clasp. The feathers fell against his body, trapping in warmth. The longest feathers, the primaries, tickled the back of his calves. "It's amazing," he breathed. Pride swelled in his chest.

"Try the helmet."

The top of the helmet was made of bone and the front of it had two fangs pointed down. The back had a neck guard of brown scales. Drake placed it gently on his head. It fit nicely, not to snug but not to loose. The fangs just touched his eyebrows and didn't block his vision. "Is this from...the moccasin?"

Mandrake nodded proudly. "Yes, your moccasin. We carved the fangs to be smaller and to fit your head. The scales are thick and will protect the back of your neck. The fangs are free of venom, however..." He reached in his cloak and pulled out two vials. "It is not uncommon for assassins to use poison."

Drake took the vials and placed them in his belt. He turned around and ran his hands on his new articles of clothing, loving the sensation of running his hands through the black feathers. "This must have been a healthy bird," he remarked.

"Oh, she was. You took care of her after all."

The young Boggan froze, not quite understanding what Mandrake had said. He scrutinized the bird cloak hard, before it dawned on him. And when it did, horror and repulsion took over like a dark cloud.

"You made this...from my bird?" _Merle?_

The King replied like nothing was wrong. "A Boggan's cloak and armor are trophies of his victories. I slayed this bat when I was you're age, and you slayed the snake. Unfortunately, the hawk flew away, so we needed something to symbolize your victory against a bird of prey."

Drake's skin was crawling. "But Mer-...my grackle is not a bird of prey."

Mandrake shrugged. "She was one of the biggest of the grackles in Wrathwood, so she was adequate. But it's late and we have an surprise attack tomorrow. I suggest you get some sleep."

The dismissal was clear and he was more than happy to be alone. He left, his new cloak flaring out behind him, the feathers rustling together slightly. Merle's feathers. After a while, Drake stopped walking and pressed his back against the dead wood of the dark hallway. He sank to the ground, fist clenching around the cloak. He no longer felt any pride in the new possession. Just disgust.

_No!_ He thought. _I should be proud! I earned this, I risked my life for it. The cloak doesn't matter, it's just a symbol, it doesn't mean anything. I'm not a true Boggan if I don't like it. _He would have to get used to it. Besides, it's just one bird. There were many more for him to ride, some of them faster and bigger than Merle. Jok and Mandrake had always told him to not make attachments; this only proved them right. There was nothing wrong with this. It was fine.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Wow, Drake's life sucks. REVIEW PLEASE! If you really love this story, then show it with just a couple of words :) your welcome for giving you such a loooonngg chapter.<strong>**

****i had read stories using Mandragora as mandrake's father or mother(i cant remember) so i decided to use it as a boggan goddess. i did not come up with her, so im disclaiming, however i dont know who thought her up first.****


	6. Pathos Beat

**This is extra long cause I wanna move things along. NOD WILL BE IN THE NEXT CHAPTER, I PROMISE!**

* * *

><p>The morning was cool and moist, the earthy scents clouding his nostrils. As Drake flew on his new grackle, leaves brushed against him and the dewdrops soaked through his clothes and armor. He shivered at the coolness. Calmness took over as he followed Mandrake and Dagda through the branches of healthy, thriving trees. Below, their Boggan horde kept up with them on the ground. Mandrake had forbidden them from killing the plants as they traveled to the Leafmen post, not wanting to warn the green warriors that they were on their way.<p>

Drake was dressed for the battle in new armor. Hard bark greaves and vambraces covered his shins and forearms. He wore a black tunic and pants made from rabbit skin, and a breastplate of acorn shells and a beetle's exoskeleton. Most Boggans wore heavy bone armor but he had to keep his light. His agility and speed were his best allies in battle, and bone armor would only hinder him. His bone knives were all strapped to his belt, as were his short swords. And of course, he had donned the snake helmet and bird cloak. Drake was obligated to wear them every day now, and he did his best to hide how treacherous he felt for wearing Merle's feathers like a trophy. _I have to get used to it._

Mandrake made his bird land on the high, thin branches of a maple tree, Drake and Dagda following suit. He could hear a creek below, bubbling and splashing softly. To the west were the great mountains, their tops glowing golden from the rising sun. The Leafmen outpost they wanted to take was a sturdy willow tree that grew right where the stream split into a tributary. The water from the stream came from the mountains and supposedly fed into the hidden spring of Moonhaven. With the outpost in their possession, they could have a quick way into the Queen's palace, or even poison the Jinn's water supply. There were only two dozen Leafmen posted here to guard it; the battle should be an easy one.

The assassin didn't know what his role in the battle was, but he assumed it must be important if he accompanied Mandrake and Dagda. He just knew the plan. A stealthy, quiet advance and then hitting them fast and hard. Mandrake turned to them, a wild look in his orange-yellow eyes.

"I'll give the signal for the attack," he said. "Dagda, you stay up here and survey the battle. Drake is your bodyguard."

Dagda's shoulders slumped. "What?!" he hissed in a whisper. "You brought me all this way for a battle just to make me watch it up here?!"

The King growled warningly, "It's for your own safety, and I don't have time to argue about it." And with that, he kneed his grackle and flew to the forest floor. Dagda glared at his retreating back then turned to glare at Drake.

"Are you freaking kidding with me?" he whined. "My greatest opportunity to gain his respect and I'm stuck with you?!"

The assassin didn't know what was worse: wearing his beloved grackle's feathers as a cloak or having to babysit an insecure Prince with a severe superiority complex.

* * *

><p>The advance was swift and quiet. However, unbeknownst to the Boggans, the element of surprise was not with them and the Leafmen were hiding, almost in plain sight. They used their surroundings to blend in, crouched under leaves, nestled in ferns, and watching the Boggans in the branches above. It was perched on her hummingbird on a branch, that Tara griped the hilt of her sword tighter. She had never forgotten what the feeling was like: the adrenaline and suspense before all hell broke loose, and she relished it. She looked just like another Leafwoman and with everyone focused on the Boggans, no one took notice. The light weight of the Leafmen armor made her skin tingle with familiarity, and she flexed her fingers as she tried to relax the hold on her sword.<p>

_Keep calm and get it together,_ she thought to herself. After all, Queen Tara was supposed to be safe in Moonhaven's stone walls, not about to fight against the creatures of rot. _Well, today, Queen Tara can hold the short straw; it's just Tara for now. _Until, of course, Ronin finds out. She could see him now, a few meters away, standing next to his bird and M.K. at his side. They were watching the Boggans intently.

The horde moved surprisingly quiet as they crossed the stream, by using the rocks and fallen branches. It wasn't long before the pack of them made it to the other side, and advanced on the serene willow tree, right below where Ronin, M.K., and the disguised Tara were.

Ronin silently flicked a hand, and every warrior tensed. The general took up his bow, pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back, and notched it to the string. He didn't even seem to aim and released the arrow. Its course was true and struck the closest Boggan in the chest. It screamed, startled and dying, the rest of the horde cackling in confusion.

Ronin's arrow signaled the ambush. The Leafmen leapt from the willow to the ground. The ferns growing below the tree bursted out the green-claded protectors of the forest that closed in on the Boggans' flanks. Behind them at the bank of the stream, the Leafmen and women emerged from their hiding spots: from behind rocks, underneath moss and washed up algae. Fallen leaves turned out to be leaf shields with furious soldiers holding them. The Boggans were effectively trapped from forward, back, and side to side. For once, the monsters were outnumbered.

"Now!" Ronin yelled. Like one entity, the Leafmen attacked and the war commenced.

* * *

><p>Drake was doing his best to ignore Dagda's glaring and keep a lookout around him. As they waited for the battle to begin, Dagda had made snarky comment after snarky comment, and it was really getting on Drake's nerves.<p>

"Jeez, we're going to be spotted cause of your black skin," the Prince insulted. "Seriously, were you born in a fire? You look like a charred trout struck by lightning."

The assassin didn't give much thought to his appearance, so he took the bullying in contemptuous silence. Dagda kept going. "I bet that old hag you hang out with threw you in the fire when you were born-"

"Don't speak about Zuri like that!" Drake snapped. "You stupid, spoiled-"

His abusing was cut off when he heard shouts below the willow, followed by sword clashing. He focused on the island and saw green Leafmen swarming the Boggans. They had fallen into a trap! _Dammit!_ He should have been paying attention instead of bickering with Dagda.

Suddenly, the Prince patted his grackle and took off. "No, Dagda, wait!" Drake yelled. The Boggan ignored him and the assassin went after him, knowing that he'd get killed if Drake wasn't there to watch his back.

* * *

><p>Tara evaded the club aimed for her head, and swept her feet under the assailant. He went crashing to the ground, and she slit his throat before he could react. She may not have fought Boggans for a long time, but she kept her skills sharp and practiced. Now that was paying off. Tara couldn't help but feel invincible as she deflected arrows and cut through Boggans.<p>

But war was no place to have fun. She could see her loyal Leafmen and women around her struggling against death. Though the Forest warriors had the upper hand, the Boggans fought with a nothing-to-lose attitude,taking their fights to the death. The Queen bitterly reflected on Mandrake's uncaring of his troops; if her warriors were the ones outnumbered, she would have ordered a retreat by now. Not that the Boggans could retreat.

Tara slayed another Boggan when she saw it. A Leafman, with dozens of scratches on his face, was fighting for his life. The Boggan was one of the biggest she had ever laid eyes on, towering over the hapless Leafman, wielding a cudgel that sprouted sharp needles like a sea urchin. The green warrior kept trying to dart in and slip his sword under his armor, but the Boggan was quick, despite its sheer size. Tara winced when the cudgel scratched the Leafman's face again.

Suddenly, the Boggan lunged, grabbing the Leafman's arm and flinging him to the ground. The warrior tried to scramble away, but the Boggan's foot came down on his leg. A sickening snap broke the air. Her soldier screamed. The Queen tasted bile when she saw the white bone sticking out of his skin. The Boggan chortled and raised its cudgel to finish the job.

There was no time to think about it, but she knew she couldn't let the Leafman die, not right in front of her. Not thinking of her own safety, Tara called upon the plants to aid her. A vine busted from ground and wrapped a choke hold around the brute's throat. The Boggan's eyes went wide and clawed at the vine. Tara flicked her hand to the side, and the vine snapped its neck in one quick movement.

She let the body slump to the ground, and hurried to the Leafman's side. His face was white with pain and fear, making the bloody scratches stand out grotesquely. He hissed, "Queen...Tara...what are..?"

"Hold still," she said gently, surveying his leg and trying not to vomit at the sight. She didn't know how to move him without making it worse, and the battle still raged around them. It wouldn't be long before a Boggan tried to attack them again.

Tara was torn in her dilemma, when a roar erupted from the mêlée. A very familiar Boggan was charging for her.

* * *

><p>The pair of young Boggans jumped down from their birds and into the battle. Dagda was going on a rampage, charging fearlessly ahead. Drake stayed glued to his back, fending off any attacks like the good servant he was.<p>

Drake was kicking a Leafwoman away when he saw the magic. A dark-skinned, and rather pretty, woman in green armor came into his line of sight. He was about to challenge her when a bright green vine emerged from the soil, moving like a snake, and began choking a monstrous Boggan. Before he blinked, it snapped its neck. The woman ran up to an injured Leafman, and Drake put two and two together.

The woman was _Queen Tara!_ And she was _here_, in the midst of battle!

"It's her!" Dagda exclaimed behind him; he had seen it to. The Prince charged for the pair.

"Dagda, wait!"

The young Boggan turned on him. "This is my chance to win my father's approval! Killing the life of the forest! There's no way you're stopping me!" And with that, Dagda ran toward the Queen, his sword in hand and an animal roar escaping his lips.

* * *

><p>Ronin and M.K. were fighting side by side, when the general heard the snap of bone and turned around to see a giant Boggan fall dead to the ground. The vine that had snapped its neck looked suspiciously familiar. He swore a filthy word when he saw her kneeling next to a downed Leafman.<p>

Sure, it's not like things were complicated enough. He was so going to kill her for this! Ronin put his fingers to his lips, about to whistle for his hummingbird and get Tara out of here. He didn't care who she was, she was not staying another second on this death field! Then, he saw Dagda and the sword raised above his head.

_ No!_

* * *

><p>For Tara, everything happened in slow motion.<p>

She saw the young Boggan coming for her, knowing that he was Dagda, Mandrake's son. The King of the Boggans was riding his grackle above them, watching his son about to attack her. He didn't seem to realize who she really was. But Dagda knew.

Then she saw Ronin. He was running for her, sword in hand and terror written all over him. He feared for her; but he wouldn't reach her in time. The Leafman that she cradled in her arms moaned in pain. Cries and clashing echoed around her, filling her world with chaos and blood. The Queen felt her forest in pain wherever the Boggans touched it.

All these emotions and feelings: pain, fear, adrenaline, anger, concern, and...love, when she looked at Ronin. All this built up and she wanted everything to just_ stop._

Tara didn't realize until the last second that she was glowing and her magic was bursting from inside her.

The illuminating light blinded everyone, making the noise and death stop abruptly. Tara was glowing brighter than the sun, but it didn't hurt her. The light was warm and comforting. The Leafman in her arms stopped moaning. Dagda shrieked at the light, stumbling back. Ronin stopped running and covered his eyes.

Then the light exploded out, knocking everything back with surprising force. Leafmen and Boggans alike fell on their backs, weapons torn from their hands. The birds in the sky remained untouched yet flew away in fear, their riders going with them. The warm light washed over them, sweeping across the ground.

The light died as suddenly as it had started. Silence fell over them, not even a bug chirped. At the source, Tara laid panting for breath, her arms shaking from exhaustion. The Leafman was sleeping, every wound healed and closed up, a look of pure bliss on his face. Ronin glanced around and noticed every Leafman and woman's injuries were healed. The Boggans were stunned into silence.

One Boggan suddenly clutched his head and began screaming. Others started doing the same, their screams making Ronin's hair rise. Some dropped their weapons and stumbled away, leaving the Leafmen confused and bewildered.

* * *

><p>Yet as his fellows backed away, Dagda recovered his balance. He too felt something painful pounding in his head but he ignored it, and focused on the weak woman in front of him. <em>I'll bring father her head,<em> he thought. He would be the hero today, and make Mandrake proud.

With this in mind, the King's son lunged for Tara and raised his sword to kill her-

And screamed in agony when Ronin's blade sliced through the flesh of his wrist. It cut his hand off in one clean slice.

Blood gushed from the horrendous wound, and Dagda's screams made everyone back up. Ronin positioned himself in front of his Queen, hiding the graphic view from her eyes. The Prince clutched his wrist to his side in a effort to stop the bleeding, pained hisses escaping between his lips.

The remainder of the Boggans ran, terrified and in pain, for the stream. The Leafmen, still disoriented from Tara's light, didn't stop them. Ronin approached the wounded Prince, seriously considering ending his life.

He didn't get the chance. A Boggan with a bird cloak draped on his shoulders came to Dagda's side, taking his good arm and supporting him. The mysterious Boggan gave a sharp whistle, and a black grackle swooped and snatched them away, carrying them off to a second bird in the sky.

* * *

><p>Drake couldn't hide his panic as he paced in front of Zuri's burrow. Dagda's screams were not helping his nerves, as were the other Boggans lying around outside Wrathwood. Every Boggan that had returned from the failed battle was squirming in discomfort, clutching their heads like they were about to pop open. Drake could only guess that it had something to do with the Queen's light show. Zuri's healers were trying in vain to discern what the problem was.<p>

Mandrake stood across from him, waiting like he was for news of his son. He had a white-knuckle grip on his simmering cudgel, and quiet rage was dancing in his eyes. Drake could not bring himself to meet his gaze.

A rustle from the entrance and Zuri stepped out of her hole, wiping her hands on a bloody rag. The wails from her burrow had gone silent.

"How is he?" Mandrake asked immediately.

Zuri spoke in a steady voice, "The bleeding has stopped and I gave him medicine for the pain. He's sleeping now."

With that news, Mandrake turned on his assassin. "This is all your fault! You were supposed to protect my son! And now he has no hand! Why didn't you bring the bloody hand back with you, so Zuri could reattach it?!"

Drake kept his eyes to the ground. "I was focusing more on getting him out of there, before he bled to death," he said quietly.

"And even if he did bring the hand, there would be nothing I could do," Zuri added. "It was a clean cut, through an artery."

"Don't you dare defend him!" the King roared. "Will my son live?!"

"It's too early to tell," Zuri replied, unaffected by his fury. "If he wakes up, he has a fighting chance. So long as it doesn't get infected-"

At that moment, someone called Zuri's name from outside. Hurrying pass the males, she ran for a crack in the wood and into the sunlight. Mandrake and Drake followed her. Zuri's team of healers were all gathered around a Boggan, and Zuri, Drake, and the King pushed their way through the crowd.

Lying on the ground was a lump of green moss, and that was strange in itself. Nothing every grew in Wrathwood.

It was only when the moss groaned did Drake realize it was a Boggan. The moss had grown all over his skin. Daises were coming out of the Boggan's ears. Miniature mushrooms and clovers were coming out of his nostrils and fingers. It was the strangest and most bizarre sight Drake had ever seen. He didn't know whether he found it funny or disturbing.

All the healers backed up as Zuri ran her eyes over the Boggan. Mandrake cursed in disgust at all the greenness covering the poor Boggan. Drake glanced around and saw that the same was happening to the other Boggans from the battle. They all had become walking gardens.

"What's happening to them?" Mandrake demanded of Zuri. She didn't reply until her analyses was complete.

"All of them were hit by the light, you said? And it was the Queen's magic?"

At the King's affirming nod, a weary expression came over her face. "Then the only thing it could be is the Queen's healing magic is trying to extract the Rot from their systems. Yet, since these are borne Boggans, their bodies are rejecting the treatment. The magic needs to come out somehow, so its growing plants on their skins."

Mandrake ran a hand over his face, obviously stressed by this new development. Then something dawned in his eyes. "Dagda..."

Without another word, Zuri spun on her heals and raced back for her burrow, Mandrake practically glued to her back and Drake following a few paces behind. The healer and the King dove down the hole, where Drake could hear the sound of whimpering. He hung back, deciding to give Dagda and his father some privacy. The Prince probably did not want to see him after he had failed to protect him.

As the young assassin waited outside, his thoughts wandered. Dagda had been the closest to Queen Tara when she became a living sun, so he received the most damage. But Drake wasn't far behind and he had been struck by the magic light just as hard. So why wasn't he groaning in pain? How come no daisies were coming out of his ears? Drake did feel a little different, but he couldn't put his finger on it, and compared to his comrades outside, he was fine. It's why he decided not to mention it to Zuri or Mandrake.

But something bothered him more than that. How did the Leafmen know they were coming? Did someone tip them off?

Before he could mull over that, Mandrake returned to the surface. He looked devastated, worry and fear in his eyes. Dagda must have been worse off than Drake originally thought. The assassin didn't move, didn't speak, tried hard not to gain his master's attention.

It didn't matter, because the Boggan King locked eyes with his and a look of condemnation came over him. "None of this would have happened if you had kept him out of the battle," he hissed. Drake looked at the ground with his head bowed.

"You failed, Drake. All my teaching was a waste! You are no longer my assassin, nor are you a true Boggan, and you never will be!" His voice raised with every word. "I hereby discharge you from the ranks and strip you of your title! Get that fine cloak off your shamed shoulders and that magnificent helmet off your filthy head! You are unfit to wear them, for they are meant for a real Boggan!"

With heavy hands, Drake complied, undoing the clasp of the cloak and letting it drop to the ground. He slowly took off the snake helmet and dropped it. Though he never loved wearing Merle's feathers, he had begun to take pride in his helmet. He had killed the serpent himself, only yesterday. And now it was being taken away from him.

"Get out of my sight!" Mandrake spat, turning away like it was toxic to look at him.

Waves of turmoil washed over him, drowning his heart in shame and defeat. Drake knew there were tears in his eyes, and he didn't want the King to see them, or they'd be looked at as a weakness. So Drake kept his head down and walked out. His steps were so heavy, it looked like he was walking to his own funeral.

He kept his gaze down all the way, ignoring all the stares. They had heard Mandrake yelling from inside. He wanted to scream at them for gawking but knew it was useless. But he finally brought his head up, resolving to keep what little dignity he had left.

He walked all the way to the edge of Wrathwood, where the marshy ground was a little more solid. There was an expanse of land between the forest and the wasteland, a sort of no-man's land between the Boggans and the Leafmen's borders. At this edge of this was a rotting stump. Drake had found it years ago when he was younger and needed a private place to think. The inside was damp, drafty, and dark but quiet. It was only in the safety of the darkness, did Drake finally allowed the tears to flow. He collapsed to the ground.

Everything he had hoped for, everything he had worked for, was ruined. It had taken him years to achieve acceptance by the other Boggans and approval from his King, but it had all been taken away in the span of a few moments. All of it was gone because he hadn't moved fast enough, didn't try hard enough to stop Dagda from going to fight. He failed to stop General Ronin from cutting off his hand.

_General Ronin. _Oh, how that infamous name was thrown around Wrathwood, making some Boggans quiver in fear and some shake with anger. Mandrake, in his rants, would name him, often blaming him for all his troubles. And why shouldn't he? Ronin had always seemed to out smart them at the last second, foil any of their plans, and even when it looked like they would win, Ronin always had an ace up his sleeve. A number of their plots against Queen Tara had failed because Ronin was their to protect her. And now, just to add insult to injury, he had gone and cut off the heir to the throne's hand!

Many feared General Ronin, but none hated him more than Mandrake. How the Lord of the Bats would love to see his rotting corpse on a platter!

And that's when hope bloomed in Drake's chest. Maybe Mandrake would never forgive him for allowing his son to become crippled, but perhaps Drake could still restore some of his honor. If he did, maybe time would heal the rift between the assassin and the King.

Revenge and retribution were Mandrake's favorite things. Drake would return to Wrathwood with his reputation repaired...

Only if he came back with Ronin's head in a sack.

* * *

><p><strong>DUN DUN DUN!<strong>

**Review please, because c'mon, I gave you a long chapter, the least you could do is give me a one-liner!**


	7. Blindsided

**Im so sorry for not updating sooner. I wanted to wait until school let out so I could focus more on studying for my exams. And I wouldve posted yesterday but I was on the road and I had no wifi.**

**So heres the next chapter, straight from Washington D.C. Its a really long one so please review, ive worked hard on this.**

**Warning: Chapter has been heavily influenced by Assassin's Creed :)**

* * *

><p>M.K.'s mind drifted as she flew her hummingbird after Cece's, the constant buzzing of the bird's wings making her lose herself. She thought back to early this morning; when the Boggans attacked.<p>

She had been just as surprised as Ronin to discover that Queen Tara was disguised as a Leafwoman. M.K. knew, like most people, that their Queen was not a delicate, sit-by-the-fire-and-wait-for-the-men kind of woman and M.K. liked that about her. But she never assumed that Tara would take it as far as actually fighting in the battle with them. If they had lost her to a Boggan sword or arrow…

M.K. tried to shake away the thoughts. She was just glad that their Queen was alive and relatively unwounded; if you didn't count the magical light draining her of her strength almost completely. Ronin had practically carried her off on his mount, and now she was sleeping in her quarters, recovering and surrounded by the best healers and guards.

M.K. was no stranger to fights, blood, or violence. It came with the job. Even though she was a rookie, she had her share of border skirmishes with the Boggans, and she killed a few before. But a full-scale battle, with her comrades getting injured or killed around her? She was extremely grateful that Cece had been on the southern border patrol that morning and not at the willow outpost.

They arrived at Nim's gnarled, old oak tree, the air around glowing golden with warmth. The cheerful music drifted outside, drawing in crowds of Jinn like moths to a flame. Laughter flew through the air, accompanied by dancing feet and the clinking of glasses. It was all so carefree and light; M.K. felt treacherous for not feeling as joyful as the other party-goers.

She followed Cece inside, and the music volume shot up, so loud it vibrated in her chest. The dance floor was already crowded with enthusiastic plant and bug Jinn. Fireflies flew in practiced, synchronized patterns, their lights flashing through colored banners that hung across the ceiling. They were constantly casting blue, green, and purple shades on the room and people.

"Man, I've missed these parties!" Cece shouted to her, trying to be heard above the din. Before she signed on to be a Leafwoman, Cece had been a regular party-goer. She had tried multiple times to get M.K. to come with her and only succeeded on a few occasions. It just wasn't her thing. Except for tonight that is; M.K. had been more than ready to accept. After the battle, she didn't want to be alone.

Without further ado, the girls threw themselves into the crowd. They danced on the floor, moving to the music and singing to the lyrics they knew. M.K. lost herself in the chaotic beauty of it all: the lights, music, colors, and Jinn. The adrenaline and music kept her going, even when her muscles screamed for a break. There was a hypnotizing method to the madness of it all. Maybe if the music played loud enough, it could drown out the horrifying screams that still resonated in her mind.

* * *

><p>He was dressed to kill: dark mole-skin pants and shirt that hugged his skin and didn't make a sound when he moved. Armor weaved from pine-cone spines were strapped to his calves and thighs, light and flexible with his movements.<p>

Instead of shoes, cobweb wrappings covered his feet and ankles, protecting his feet but muffling his footsteps. The same wrappings were on his forearms and hands. A pine-cone breastplate protected his torso and shoulders. Finally, a short cloak of some ragged material hung from his shoulders, and a skull half-helmet concealed his head and the top half of his face.

Drake liked it when his enemies saw his smirk as he killed them.

And of course, his short sword, bow, and quiver were strapped over his shoulder. The wrappings concealed his hand knives and a pouch of Rot dust bumped against his leg. He had acquired the clothes and weapons when he had sneaked back into Wrathwood. It was not a challenge; Mandrake had trained him in infiltration with such exercises.

Drake had crossed the no man's land with ease, the night becoming his helpful companion. He hid when he heard the buzzing of hummingbird wings as the evening patrols made their rounds along the border. He ran across the forest floor in quick bursts, sprinting a couple of meters, hiding, listening, then sprinting again when he heard nothing.

Drake had thought out his plan. He would go as far as he could under the cover of night. By dawn, he needed to find a hiding place to avoid the Jinn and Leafmen. He would go out each night and search for a way into Moonhaven, by either doing reconnaissance or eavesdropping on conversations. When he finds General Ronin, the assassin will shadow him, noting his daily routines and routes. And in one of these moments, Drake will silence him.

It was a long, dangerous process of killing someone, but it was how he was trained. A smart assassin wouldn't go charging in without careful planning. And this was _General Ronin_ he had contracted himself to assassinate.

He skidded out of his sprint, crouching in the shadow of a tree. He inhaled deeply through his nose to bring his breathing under control and opened his ears to the environment. It was then, that he heard a faint musical tune through the forest. Curious, Drake cocked his head and listened, pinpointing the direction it was coming from.

The Boggan got to his feet and jogged carefully towards the music. _Why not?_ he thought. Jinn like celebrating, so maybe it could point him in the right direction for Moonhaven.

The music got louder as he drew closer and little bits of light shined in the darkness ahead. Finally, it came into view. It came from a twisted, grizzled oak tree, the oldest that Drake had ever seen. The tree was a hulking giant shrouded in darkness but glowing from the inside with light. Music and laughter filtered through the rough bark.

It was the center of the Rings of Knowledge, the tree of the great and eccentric Nim Galuu, Keeper of the Scrolls. It's the home of thousands of years of archived history and the place to be if you wanted to party. Mandrake had sketches and scripts of the Rings back in his library. It had always fascinated Drake that so much information could be kept in one place, all of it recorded the moment the event happened.

Unfortunately, he was not here on a sight-seeing tour. As curious as he was to break in and explore the Rings, Drake needed to leave. If Ronin wasn't there, then Drake shouldn't be either.

The buzzing noise warned him but it was too late to dive for cover, so he did the next best thing. The Boggan dropped to the ground and laid dead still, waiting for the shout that meant he was spotted. It didn't come, and the hummingbird flew over him towards the tree. Drake lifted his head and watched the green bird fly up and perch on a thick bough of the oak. A Leafman dismounted.

When he lifted his helmet, the light caught the crescent-shaped horns of the head-gear and illuminated the warrior's face. Drake's breath caught in his chest, barely believing his luck. Ronin was only ahead of him.

As if his thoughts warned him, Ronin looked out into the forest like he knew he was being watched. Drake froze. He let his dark clothes blend in seamlessly with the wilderness. It felt like a full minute before the general shook his head and walked inside Nim's tree.

Drake gave a feral smile. This was going to be good.

* * *

><p>The Leafgirl didn't know how much time had passed when she had finally stumbled off the dance floor. She had lost Cece and couldn't remember when. Her throat felt dry so she headed for the refreshment tables on the side of the room. Maybe a drink would restore her resolve and get her back out on the floor.<p>

She pushed her way through conversing Jinn as politely as she could, and grabbed a cup from the stack on the table. She went to grasp the ladle of a giant flower filled with flavored nectar, when her fingers brushed someone else's reaching for the same utensil.

"Oh, sorry…" she said quickly and retracted her hand when the other person exclaimed, "M.K.!"

She looked up and beheld the face that would have had her hyperventilating back when she was younger and still in school. It actually still had the same effect on her now, but she was better at hiding it.

"Kaiden?"

The young man before her hadn't changed much since when she last saw him. He was a bit taller, more muscular, but still much the same. His black hair was still cut into a spiky mohawk streaked with neon blue highlights. A chiseled jaw framed his thin lips that were pulled into a happy smile, flashing brilliant white teeth. His hazel eyes were friendly and happy to see her.

"Wow, it's been so long," he exclaimed. "I haven't seen you since flight school!"

"Yeah, um, well you know we…graduated." _Really, M.K.? Is that not obvious? _

"I heard you got into the Leafmen ranks," he continued breezily. "And was it yesterday that you were made General Ronin's right-hand man?" Then quickly corrected himself. "Sorry, I meant woman."

"That's right." Kaiden's friendly manner made her feel a bit more at ease. "So, I guess that means you're friends with a celebrity now," she couldn't help put quip.

Kaiden laughed lightly. "Yeah I guess you're right. Ronin's not working you too hard I hope?"

"Not really. I just started and nothing big has come up," she replied, her heart rate speeding up at the lie. She didn't know if Ronin or Tara wanted the battle to become public knowledge yet, even though it is impossible to cover up such an event. M.K. didn't want to talk about it.

"So, what brings you to Nim's? I thought you weren't into parties," Kaiden asked, taking the ladle and pouring nectar into his cup.

"Cece managed to convince me to come," the red-head replied, also filling her cup. "Besides, I needed to loosen up a-" She stopped when she felt a hand on her shoulder and couldn't help but jump, an animal instinct kicking in. M.K. spun around so fast, her drink splashed over the rim and onto-

"Ronin!" she yelped at the sight of her commanding officer, her face heating up with embarrassment when she saw her nectar staining the green breastplate of his uniform. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, I'm usually not that jumpy-"

"It's alright, M.K.," he said calmly, not in the least bit upset. In fact, he looked at her with sympathy, which confused the Leafgirl. Ronin grabbed a napkin from the stack on the table and wiped the nectar off his armor. He glanced at Kaiden. "Could you give us a minute, please?"

Kaiden consented, a puzzled expression on his face, and moved away until he was out of sight. Ronin guided her to the side of the chamber, next to one of the many doors that led outside. It was a bit quieter here, but not by much so their conversation could be heard. Looking out, she saw it was nighttime and the stars and moon were in the sky; she and Cece must have danced longer than she thought.

M.K. turned to her superior. "What is it? Another Boggan attack?" she tried to hide the tremor in her voice.

"No," he replied.

"Is the Queen okay?"

"She's still unconscious, but the healers looked her over and haven't found a single scratch. I've got six Leafmen guarding her with every shift." M.K. breathed a sigh of relief and her heart rate went down; only to have Ronin's question bring it back up again.

"M.K., what are you doing here?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Ronin sighed. "Why are you at Nim's party after the heated battle just this morning? You should be resting."

"The healers said I could leave," she replied. "I'm fine and there's a bunch more men and women who need their attention. Plus, I wanted to relieve some stress, that's all."

"You look more stressed than relaxed, M.K. When I tapped you on the shoulder, you reacted like a cornered animal," the general said slowly.

M.K. knew he was right, and she was more shaken by the bloody fight than she cared to admit, even to herself. Still, she stubbornly tried to brush it off. "I'm fine, sir."

General Ronin had never struck her as looking or acting like an old man. He was the invisible commander of the Leafmen armies, and he carried himself like the alpha wolf of a pack. So, it stunned her when she saw how evident a jaded light flicked in his blue eyes. He suddenly looked ancient. "You're a terrible liar."

The statement made her mask crumble. The recent memories flooded her mind, the screams and the chaos echoing again and again in her ears. The music didn't sound so carefree anymore. The happy strangers celebrating made her paranoid instead of indifferent.

"You need to go home," Ronin said. "Run a hot bath, drink some herbal tea, read a book perhaps. But what you really need is sleep."

"I...I can't be alone right now," she stammered. The fear was rising up inside her, no matter how hard she tried to beat it down.

"You're not alone. I'm sure that Cece won't mind leaving early to help her friend. And don't you have a father living near here?"

M.K. kept protesting. "She's probably having fun, and I shouldn't ruin that, and my dad...he's too busy for this sort of thing." Her voice cracked at the last part.

The general raised an eyebrow but didn't press her for more; she was clearly too distressed. He gently but firmly grabbed her arm. "Let's go find Cece. If she is your best friend, then she won't hesitate to drop everything to keep you company." He tugged her away, and M.K. followed meekly, feeling the overwhelming want to go home and cry. She should never had come to Nim's.

They were about to wander back into the crowd to find her friend, when Ronin halted abruptly, standing rigid. M.K. felt the muscles in the hand holding her arm tense all of the sudden. "Ronin?..."

* * *

><p>As soon as his target had walked inside the tree, Drake was moving fast. He didn't know how long Ronin would hang around and didn't want to let him slip through his fingers. If he killed him now it would save time and he could return home triumphant.<p>

Quickly, Drake scaled the tree next to him, crawling up like a spider. There were dozens of nooks and crannies in the bark to act as foot holds. In no time, he reached the first branch, and then it was a simple matter of power jumping from one to the next. He climbed higher and higher until he reached the topmost canopy.

Perched lightly on the thin branches, Drake had a clear view of the path he wanted to take. The tree he was in grew a couple meters away from the oak, but the branches stretched like arms out for a hug toward each other. Light as a bird, Drake took a running jump up the thin, flimsy branch. He leaped the gap like a squirrel, landing with perfect balance on the other side. Without missing a beat, he ran down the oak branch until he reached the trunk. There was a knothole a foot above him, and he climbed up and carefully peered inside.

It was the ideal vantage point, for it gave him the perfect view of the party chamber. He saw the backs of the musicians on stage, playing fast-paced beats and singing in high-pitched voices. Jinn of all kinds crowded the dance floor; everything from flower people to bug Jinn. Fireflies flew through the air, doing there own dance and flashing their lights through colorful papers.

The assassin scanned the room slowly, looking for his target. There were so many Jinn here, he wondered if he would have to move to another spot to find...

There! Drake's golden eyes caught the glint of polished green and the familiar form of its owner. General Ronin was standing off to the side of the room, near one of the exits. He seemed to be in deep conversation with a young lady. She looked about his age with flaming red hair and green eyes.

The Boggan assassin slipped his bow of his back, being careful not to take his eyes off of Ronin for more than a second. His hand reached back and grasped the rough shaft of an arrow. He nocked it to the string, pulled back, and aimed for the General's heart.

In the span of the moments before he released the arrow, Ronin had taken a hold on the girl and was in the process of leading her away, presumably further into the room. But he had stopped and stood tense, like a deer does when it senses its being stalked...

Both the assassin and the target had realized at the same time that something was off. In a panicked moment, Drake hesitated to let the shot fly before he got over his nerves and let it go.

Too late!

* * *

><p>For M.K., everything happened very fast. One moment she was standing next to her commanding officer, about to head home. The next, she was thrown to the ground without so much as a warning.<p>

Yet her keen ears picked up the slight, sharp whistle through the air above her, and less than a second later, a violent _thunk_ followed it. One glance, and she spotted the gray shaft of an arrow in the smooth woodwork of the tree. It vibrated from the shock of hitting the wall.

Ronin lay next to her, also staring at the arrow. M.K. went to get up, to move away from the danger, but Ronin's hand on her shoulder reminded her that getting up was not a good idea.

When they had slammed themselves into the floor, they received the stunned attention of the Jinn. A flower woman suddenly screamed, pointing at the lodged arrow. One by one, others saw it to and began running out, yelling that it was a Boggan attack. The fear spread like a wildfire in summer.

Ronin and M.K. crawled away, grunting when a Jinn's foot ran over them. They kept crawling until they reached the refreshment table, ducking under the tablecloth and going out the other side. The general and Leafgirl peeked over the edge.

The last remaining celebrators had cleared out quickly, and she hoped someone had the sense to warn the Leafmen. The room was completely empty but M.K. didn't see any Boggans.

"Where do you think it came from?" she asked Ronin. Her initial fear and alarm gave way to readiness and calm, something she had mastered over the years of doing her job.

"Judging by the angle of the arrow, the upper right area of the tree," he replied. "He's alone. By now, a horde would be swarming the chamber but they have not come." The man paused, like he was waiting for something. His blue eyes were riveted to the knot holes above, searching for movement.

"He hasn't tried a second shot," M.K. added. "He may have left-"

A dark apparition leaped from a knothole and landed on the stage where the musicians had been. He was dressed head to toe in black and M.K. thought at first she was looking at something made of pure darkness. Strange brown armor covered his arms, legs, and chest. Knives on a belt slung on his waist, a short sword, quiver, and bow on his back. An animal skull hid half of his face, a tattered short cloak hung from his broad shoulders.

M.K.'s horror grew. The thing before her dressed like a Boggan, had the weapons of them, but his skin was coal black, something she had never seen before. His build, though muscular, was slim and small compared to the monstrous size some Boggans grew to.

Unexpectedly, the Boggan spoke, his voice a far cry from the guttural growling of his kind. "The great General Ronin hiding behind a table skirt with a pretty girl," he muttered. The Boggan smiled wolfishly, his white teeth a stark contrast to his complexion. "Don't get into any mischief back there while I'm here, you two!"

M.K.'s anger overrode caution, and she got to her knees to properly give the dog a glare while still behind the table. "Wow, you've been in the room for five seconds and I'm already sickened."

Surprisingly, Ronin got to his feet, giving her a warning glance before addressing the dark figure on stage. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"I can't tell you," he replied clipped. His voice gave away how young he was. "As for the second question: your head." As soon as the words were said, the assassin was flicking his hand. The Leaf warriors ducked back down, narrowly avoiding the flashing throwing knife.

M.K. didn't know how she got the idea, but she knew that the assassin could pick them off like fish in a lily pond with his knives. They needed to distract him long enough for the Leafmen to arrive or escape.

So she started hurling the seed cake and honey brittle that sat on the table at the young Boggan.

Their assailant was surprised to see dessert flying for his face, even when he dodged it easily. M.K. kept at it, chucking anything she could grab from the table. A piece of honey brittle managed to hit him in the chest, making the attacker even more irate. "You think throwing food at Mandrake's top assassin is going to do anything?!" he snapped.

"Way to not tell us who you are!" M.K. shot back. She threw the silver dessert platter like a disc, and he ducked as it flew over his head. The Boggan got angrier, but the red-head's distraction was just enough for Ronin.

The seasoned warrior vaulted off the table, drawing his sword in one fluid motion. The assassin backtracked, having just enough time to draw his blade to ward off the general's attack. Drake felt the corded muscle backing the sword. _Hellfire, he's strong! _The assassin parried and went in quickly with a counter attack.

For his part, Ronin sidestepped, the short sword skittering off his katana with a flurry of sparks. _Damn, he's a fast one! _the general thought. He thrusted but the Boggan bounded back, a hand reaching for his belt of knives. Ronin was on to him immediately, forcing his adversary to block another attack.

As they fought, Ronin's mind raced. The assassin was a distance fighter, of that he was certain. The Boggan kept giving a little ground to him, always trying to take a knife from the sheath, maybe out of habit. His lean form gave him speed and agility but that was useless in close quarters. The assassin was also prideful, for he fought with a swagger and cockiness that Ronin saw often in new, budding recruits. It was pride that brought the assassin out of his hidey-hole where he could have loosed more arrows on him and M.K.

_Ultimately,_ Ronin thought. _Pride will be his downfall. _With this thought, Ronin lunged and tackled the assassin, hoping to subdue him. The Boggan did not buckle under his weight but stumbled backwards as he attempted to find his balance.

Neither of them realized how close they were to a door before they both went tumbling out the tree, falling into the darkness. M.K's shout echoed in Ronin's ears.

The ground came up very fast, and even for the difference in mass, the collision knocked the breath out of Ronin's lungs. For a few seconds, he lay there gasping, his stomach doing flips. Then his mind kicked in, and he remembered his situation. He got on his hands and knees, feeling for his sword. The sudden lurch of movement made his head swim.

The general felt the familiar shape of his hilt just as he heard the whisper of a sharp whistle behind his head. He rolled away, narrowly avoiding the Boggan sword. The action set his head on a new dizzy spin as he bounded back to his feet. Ronin fought to not collapse.

The assassin's skull helmet was absent, probably knocked off by the fall. Even in the dark, he could make out the killer's surprisingly youthful features. What was even more strange was his messy black hair and flat face. Ronin had met many kinds of Boggans, but this one was the strangest yet. The only thing that was of the norm were the hostile, yellow eyes that glowed in the dark and the pointed teeth bared like an angry wolf.

Then the realization hit him. "You were at the willow outpost this morning. You rescued Prince Dagda!"

The young Boggan lunged at him, furiously swinging his short sword. Ronin was able to block his attempts but his head was still swimming. Fear clawed at him when his mind didn't clear. The fall must have done something to him. Ronin found he was being pushed back, losing the advantage.

At the next swing, the Boggan and the Leafman locked swords, the blades giving a resounding clash as bone scraped against patterned rock. A contest of brute strength ensued. Because of the close proximity, Ronin noticed something strange happening to his opponent. His black hair was streaked with brown that hadn't been there before, and the streaks were getting thicker. His black skin seemed to be leaching of its shade and...was it turning pinker?

Drake had never felt this sensation before. Why was he feeling so weightless inside? His thoughts were foggy like his head was full of clouds. His legs felt empty of energy. Had he been drugged? Drake shook his head, trying to clear it away and focus. He had Ronin right where he wanted him.

"You're getting slow, old man!" the assassin crowed, breaking into the general's thoughts. "And I've wasted enough time!" With that, the Boggan slid his blade down Ronin's and twisted the hilt out of his hands. The sword flew away into the darkness. The assassin dropped and swept his legs under Ronin's. This time, the general didn't avoid the move.

Ronin's back hit the ground and the air rushed out of his lungs. The Boggan's foot on his chest pinned him to the ground. He grabbed the leg and tried to pry him off, but was too winded to do much.

Unsuppressed glee glinted in the assassin's eyes as he raised his sword above his head to deliver the killing blow. "Take a Boggan's hand," he preached. "Sever your head in return."

_This cannot be my end. _

Though it was dark, he saw something long and thin fly out and wrap around the Boggan's arm, the crack of whip resonating in the air a half second after. The Boggan snarled in fury as he was dragged from Ronin, flailing as he tried to free himself.

M.K. was riding her hummingbird, wielding her whip as she lifted the assassin off of her commander. Ronin couldn't help but smile in relief; perhaps there was such thing as timely rescues.

The assassin continued to fight the grip of the whip, but with his feet finding no purchase, all he could do was swing. Before he could cut himself free, M.K. swung her whip and slammed him into the side of Nim's tree, effectively winding him for the moment.

Ronin heard the buzzing first. A platoon of Leafmen arrived, led by Finn and Cece, the latter waving her hand at M.K. The warriors circled the downed Boggan in the air, aiming dozens of arrows at him. The Boggan froze, not wanting to give them a reason to skewer him.

Finn hopped off his mount, giving his general a hasty salute. "Cece warned us and we came as quick as we could!"

"Almost not quick enough," Ronin replied. If he was shaken by the near death experience, he didn't show it.

"I thought we were doing okay," M.K. remarked. "Since when does a Boggan get one over the great General Ronin?"

Ronin ignored the two redheads' snickers and turned toward his would-be killer. The Boggan was hunched over, his legs apart as he tried to keep from falling over, a hand braced against the bark. When Ronin approached, the Boggan looked up at him through messy, brown locks.

Ronin's feet were anchored to the ground. A young Boggan was no longer before him. It was a Jinn teenager. He had brown hair, slightly tanned skin, and brown eyes. His teeth were no longer pointed but straight. The boy looked ill but he still stared at the general with defiance.

That's not what made Ronin's blood run cold. The brown hair, the jaw line, the eyes...

_Why does he look so much like Aaron?_

* * *

><p><strong>At last, im done. Good god that was the longest chapter ive ever written.<strong>

**Review please! :)**


	8. Second Skin

Queen Tara sat at her desk in her bed chamber, wrapped in a feather down blanket. Her maid, Cinna, was making up her giant flower bed, smoothing the fresh sheets into place and beating the pillows. The circular window in the ceiling gave a glimpse of the pink sky above, and the first weak rays of the sun streaking across it. The stony chamber was cool and the birds twittered outside in the trees. Tara had woken up that morning feeling very refreshed.

But now she was feeling anxious. When she came back to consciousness, she had seen the pile of papers placed on her rosewood desk, waiting for her to read and respond. Upon seeing it, Cinna immediately apologized for it being there, saying that Tara should not have to receive reports shortly after falling into a short coma. Tara only smiled and assured her that it was no trouble but necessary. When there was news, you did not keep the Queen in the dark.

When she picked it up, the neat handwriting identified itself as Ronin's. As she read, fear began lacing through her veins. Uncertainty clawed at her. Tara read again and again, making sure she hadn't misread or skipped a word. The message was the same every time.

An assassination attempt on Ronin's life. Thank the forest it was an _attempt. _Then came the confusing part. The would-be killer was apprehended, but he had gone through a..._transformation_?

Now the Queen rested in her chair, trying to sink into the blanket and feel at ease. She turned over the last bit of the report in her mind. She remembered something that the previous Queen had told her about, when she was still learning her new powers nearly a hundred years ago. The longer she sat there, the more Tara realized what had occurred with the assassin's alteration. But she needed to see for herself.

Cinna started walking for the door, a bundle of sheets in her arms, when there was knock on the door. "Let them in, please," Tara said to her. Cinna nodded and shifted her bundle to one arm. As soon as the door was opened just wide enough, Ronin came in.

"My Queen, it's good to see you-" he didn't get to finish as Tara launched herself from her chair and enveloped the bigger man in her slim arms.

"Thank God you're alive!" she exclaimed. Cinna, a small smile on her lips, slipped out to give them their privacy.

"Of course I'm alive, Tara," he whispered back to her, wrapping his arms around her back. He dropped all pretense of professionalism when they were alone. "So I guess you read the report?"

She stepped back, her hands still resting on his shoulder plates. "Well, it was on my desk. Thank you though, for keeping me up to date when I was...out of commission."

Ronin scowled. "We still need to talk about that-"

"That can wait," she replied, authority in her tone. "Right now, I want you to explain to me what happened at Nim's last night. And is M.K. alright?"

"She's fine, as is all the Leafmen that were there. And the report says it all. A Boggan assassin tried to kill me at the celebration, first with an arrow and then with his sword. Cece was there and she warned Finn, and they came as quick as they could. M.K. saved my life by dragging the assassin off me with her whip, and the Leafmen arrived. Thankfully, all the civilians had cleared off before the Boggan could do serious harm."

Tara waited for him to explain the most mind-boggling part of the story but Ronin just shifted his eyes to the ground. The little action would mean nothing to most people, but Tara knew that it meant he was uncertain. Maybe even scared to continue.

"And..." she prompted. "He changed..." Her hands gesticulated, encouraging him to keep talking.

"He became more like a Jinn," the general said. "His skin went from black to pink, his eyes and hair became brown...strangely he already had hair, which I've never seen before on a Boggan...but he's only a teenager..."

Tara could tell that he was holding something back. She could see it in his blue eyes; a lingering shock that hadn't completely worn off. "What is it?" she asked. "There's more to it, isn't there."

Ronin sighed wearily. You can't hide anything from Tara. Or at least he couldn't. She was one of the few that could read him like an open book.

"You better come see for yourself."

* * *

><p>Drake woke with a sudden jerk, a hand immediately snaking under his head to reach for the knife he always kept under his pillow. Except there was no pillow and no knife. There wasn't even a bed. Looking around groggily, he realized he was in an empty room, bare of any furniture or wall decorations. The only things were a small, glowing lantern fixed to the wall and an oblong, standing mirror.<p>

The walls, floor, and ceiling were made of cool, smooth stone. It was quiet, nothing else living except himself. So what had awoken him?

Muffled noises came through a wooden door at the far end of the room. His ears knew the sounds: the scraping of armor plates against each other, a repositioning of feet, a cough of a bored guard. That's when the events of last night came back to him like a collision. He was a prisoner.

He pinched his nose and rubbed his eyes. "Damn sickness." He felt it as he was fighting Ronin; a stirring in his gut and the light-headed sensation. Drake had fought it down since he had no choice but to ignore it.

But when the platoon of Leafmen had arrived, when that meddling girl had ruined his chance of killing the general, the symptoms had intensified to the point where he couldn't stand up straight. A terrible dizziness washed over, incapacitating him. Then he blacked out. He didn't even remember hitting the ground.

The Queen's magic had finally taken an effect on him, yet he wasn't groaning or whimpering like the sick Boggans in Wrathwood. Taking his hand from his eyes, he glanced at his arm, expecting moss or clovers to be growing on the limb.

Instead, Drake saw something that was much worse than a garden.

He gaped and stared stupidly, thinking that his eyes were playing tricks on him. The skin of his arm was...pink! Slightly tanned and smooth but not black. He looked at his hands, his fingers. He rolled up his pant leg to find the same color skin as his arms. If this is what his body looked like, then what happened to his face...

Jumping to his feet, he stumbled to the mirror, dreading what he would see but needing to know what the hell the magic did to him.

Drake grasped the frame of the mirror as he took in his reflection. His hair, which had always been a glossy, raven feather black, was now rich brown and wavy. His gaped and saw that his teeth had lost their pointy edge and were now all straight. His yellow orb eyes were gone. He had white corneas, brown irises, and round black pupils.

He didn't look like a Boggan anymore. Drake was more like a Jinn. "Oh my Rot," he began muttering, running his hands over his face, through his hair, like the rubbing could bring back the original color. He rubbed his eyes over several times, trying to wipe away the hallucination. He was hallucinating wasn't he?

Drake stared long and hard at his reflection. It didn't go away; this alteration to his appearance is real. But how did this happen to him?

Then it hit the Boggan like a ton of rocks. Ever since he was smashed with that wave of magic at the battle (was that yesterday?) he had been feeling different. It wasn't enough to be noticeable or a bother, it was just there in his body, like something was being pulled out of him. The Queen did this to him. It was the only plausible and possible conclusion.

His shock and fear gave way to anger. Drake began pacing his prison, his fist balled, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. The young assassin could never stay still when he was mad, and the whole affair made a vein pulse in his temple. Rage began rolling off him in waves.

It felt like twenty minutes before he heard approaching boots on a stone floor. By that time, he was an agitated beast in his cage, ready to bite the first hand that came close enough to him. Drake froze when the steps stopped outside his door. The lock clicked three times before it swung open. Stepping through with all the dignity and decorum was Mother Nature herself, followed by her loyal, obedient dog. The last people on the planet that Drake wanted to see at the moment.

Queen Tara seem froze upon seeing him, her dark eyes widening in surprise. Why was she looking at him like that?

Pushing it aside, the assassin got straight to the point, to angry to wait for the Queen to speak first. "This is your doing, isn't it?" he growled, fuming at the sight of her. "Witch!"

General Ronin stepped closer in a threatening way. "Queen Tara is not responsible for any of this."

"Actually, I believe I am," Tara replied smoothly, unruffled by both of the males' tempers. She seem to had gotten over her initial shock of the appearance of the young captive.

Ronin was surprised, as Drake was furious. "I knew it!" he spat. "Change me back, now!"

"Do not speak to her like that again!" Ronin snarled. "Have some respect, boy!"

"I just woke up to find myself looking like a Jinn! I'm not going to be polite to someone who practices sorcery on my body!"

"It's not her fault that you-"

"Enough," Tara said softly. Ronin immediately obeyed her and quieted, his blue eyes glinting dangerously at the assassin. Tara's calm demeanor and the way she didn't have to raise her voice to give an order spoke of voluminous confidence and respect from her subjects. She wasn't scared or judgmental as her dark brown eyes looked Drake over. For some reason, this made him even angrier and he opened his mouth to snap a snarky comment but she beat him to it.

"Do you know what a pathos beat is?"

This caught Drake off guard and stopped whatever words he had in his throat. _What an absurd question!_ He shook his head, wondering what the hell the old queen was rambling about.

"When a magic being is put in high stress situations, he or she's magic can be harder to control," the Queen explained. "The build-up of emotions is one factor. Adrenaline, rage, fear, even love; all these feeling taint the magic. When it is at its highest peak, the magic has no other choice but to escape from the user's body, causing an explosion of emotional energy and affecting whatever it hits. It's as uncontrollable as a volcano eruption."

Tara paused, waiting to see if any of this clicked with him. Drake didn't break his gaze from hers, and she continued when he didn't respond. "That's what happened on the battlefield yesterday...my pathos beat hit you and your comrades."

_And now they're groveling on the ground, covered in plants because of it...including Dagda. _Zuri's theory was right. "But why did it turn me into a Jinn?" Drake asked, impatient for an explanation.

The Queen shook her head. "It never turned you into a Jinn. My magic only heals and reverses the Rot. You were already a Jinn, or at least...half Jinn."

Drake's shock was quickly replaced by fury. "Liar!"

If Tara was affected by his insult, she didn't show it. The prisoner's outburst made Ronin's hand go for the hilt of his sword. "My pathos magic is probably affecting the Boggans in negative ways, but it has also extracted the Rot inside you. This is your true form." Her eyes softened. "You were never one of them. You are one of us."

Silence filled the room. The Boggan's eyes were wide and his fists clenched. What this woman was saying could not be true. It was just too fantastic to believe! He's lived his whole life as a Boggan. _As long as I could remember, I was a Boggan born and bred._

She gazed at Drake sympathetically, while Ronin looked almost horrified. This reignited his defiance. _I don't need their pity!_

"Get out," he whispered with barely contained anger, making it sound like he'd tear down their palace piece by piece if they didn't leave him alone.

The Queen consented and strode for the door. Ronin looked the assassin over one last time before following. Tara had her hand on the knob, but she turned and looked at the mirror.

"This used to be a guest room before I had it cleared out," she said. "I didn't mean to leave the mirror here. Shall I have it removed?"

The young captive refused to look her in the eye and stared unfocused at the ground. It took him a minute to find his voice. "No, it's fine. Leave it."

She nodded, turned the knob, and walked out of the room. Ronin's blue eyes bore into Drake's new brown ones. The general's gaze was searching, like he was trying to find something...or someone...within him. The assassin met his eyes with a frustrated glare. Why wouldn't the old man just go and leave him alone?

"What's your name?" Ronin asked evenly, breaking the silence.

Drake gritted his teeth. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing. I'm just curious."

_He's lying. _That's what Drake's gut was telling him and he trusted his instincts. Another silence stretched out. Ronin just stood there, arms crossed and unmoving, not giving any sign that he was going to walk out the door. He wasn't going to leave until Drake gave him what he wanted. The non-Boggan relented.

"Drake."

Ronin tilted his head. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" he barked, exasperated. "What do you want me to say, old man? A Jinn name? Is 'Drake' to Boggan for you?!"

The general regarded his venting frustration with surprise, as though he expected a different answer. "I just thought I ask."

"Well there's your answer. Now will you _kindly_ leave me to my thoughts?"

"Just one more question. Why did you try to kill me last night?"

"Retribution for cutting off Prince Dagda's hand," the assassin replied. "The healers aren't sure he's gonna make it. You've really pissed off Mandrake...and me."

Ronin lifted an eyebrow quizzically. "What's it matter to you?"

"You already used your final question," Drake growled. "Now leave me alone."

The general squared his jaw. Of course, he could stay and interrogate Drake all he wanted (Drake playing the prisoner role after all), but instead he headed for the door, pausing to look back at him. He shook his head then closed the door.

The click of keys locking Drake in felt like a knife in his chest. With that sound of finality, his mask crumbled and the Boggan (or non-Boggan) never felt so small and alone. He leaned his back against the wall and slid to the ground. Drake hugged his knees to his chest, and buried his face in his arms.

This was not happening.

_My name is Drake,_ he thought over and over. _I am nineteen years old and a Boggan. I never knew my parents. I'm Mandrake's top assassin and his son's bodyguard. I am his loyal servant; he will release me when he sees it is fit. Not a moment sooner. Until then, I serve him and carry out his every order. No matter if it takes away a bit more of my soul each time. _That's what was always told to him...by Mandrake.

He must have stayed like that for a while, for when he finally looked up, his neck was stiff from the awkward position. Drake rolled it a little, working out the kinks. His eyes fell on the mirror, and he found himself approaching it. Standing in front of it wasn't a Boggan. It was a boy. If what Tara said was true...

Drake looked over his body again. Light brown eyes, healthy pink skin, unruly brown hair, and a lean, graceful build. "Are you sure?" Ronin had asked him. _Am I sure that my name is Drake?_ The name Drake suddenly didn't work for him anymore. For all he knew, it was most likely another lie from Mandrake. But if it wasn't his real name... then what was it?

He fell asleep again with these thoughts on his mind. Maybe that's what led to his dream. It was a dream he hadn't had in years. It was blurry and unfocused but it was filled with light and a child's laughter. A deep voice resonated constantly, accompanied by a light, more melodious one. They kept singing the same word over and over like a chant.

_"Nod, Nod, Nod."_

* * *

><p>Mandrake couldn't keep still. He was either pacing around the room, stirring his toxic pool of Rot potion, shuffling through leaflets of reports from his generals, or was knocking items off his library shelves in growing anger and frustration.<p>

His son had still not woken up. Zuri had assured him that there was nothing to worry about at this stage, and Dagda needed all the rest he could get, but it did not soothe the King's frazzled nerves. He was seething over yesterday's failures: losing the chance to obtain a strategic Leafmen holding, the Queen cheating death, and Ronin cutting off his son's sword hand. To top it off, the Boggans that went into battle were still suffering from Tara's plant magic, though there was less moaning echoing around Wrathwood.

However, what irritated him the most was how he handled the situation with his loyal assassin. Mandrake did not regret stripping him of his rank and honor; the Boggan did deserve such a shaming after he failed to protect Dagda. But Mandrake didn't calculate that Drake would disappear afterwards. And he should have.

It made sense if the Boggan didn't want to show his face around Wrathwood for a while, for fear of humiliation. Drake left the home tree yesterday at noon. When he didn't show up around dark, Mandrake had scoffed at his cowardice. Now it was late morning of the next day.

Mandrake should have locked the assassin up. It would be a fitting punishment and it would have kept him in Wrathwood under the King's eye. Instead, the assassin was roaming free somewhere in the marshlands...or even in the forest itself.

Thinking about all this brought back memories from a long time ago. The Boggan King went through another door that lead off from his brewing room and into his personal study. There were shelves of the walls packed with old, deteriorating books and slips of paper. At the top shelf in the left corner was a thin, little book. It was so small and was almost falling to pieces, held only by sinew string. It was actually devoid of pages. But that's not what made the book valuable.

Using the tip of his staff, Mandrake tipped the book off the shelf, catching it as gently as he could. Laying it on his desk, he carefully opened the cover. His golden eyes stared down at a face that he hadn't seen in a long time. A face he had hoped he could forget with time and work.

_Hydra_. His fingers brushed over the sketch lightly like he was actually stroking her cheek. Before he could begin reminiscing, Mandrake turned the single page in the book, covering the sketch. Three pieces of folded scrolls slid out.

Mandrake didn't know exactly why he didn't destroy theses scrolls years ago. If Drake were to ever come across them, then Mandrake would have a lot of explaining to do. The assassin was, of course, forbidden to be in Mandrake's study alone and would certainly never touch his books without his permission. But prodigies were always more obedient when they were children. Drake was now nineteen, and teenagers were notoriously rebellious. The King had exerted enough discipline to keep him in line, but one could never know when the seed of independence could start growing in the young mind.

Mandrake resolved to make forged copies of the originals, but with his own version of the past. If Drake ever did began questioning him about his past, he needed to be ready with a full, flawless story. But this would take time and he would need to gather all the right materials. After all, scrolls from the Rings of Knowledge are a special kind of documents.

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><p><strong>Im sorry this took so long to be posted, but im still working on it so have no fear! You could say this chapter concludes part 1 of this story.<strong>

**So whatcha think? Leave a review!**

**And for all my Rise of the Rose King followers, the sequel is coming out next Friday! At last! just wait a little longer guys!**

**And can someone please share with me in the feels on what happened in HTTYD 2?!**


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